Phantasmagoria
by Whitelighter Enchantress
Summary: COMPLETE! Two stories told in one through the present, memories, and dreams. An alternate Phase One.
1. Chapter 1

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 1

A/n: Yes, new fic! I'm very excited about it. But I should warn you: you'll probably be confused. It will all make sense eventually, though, so don't let the uncertainty stop you from reading or reviewing.

Summary: This is hard to summarize without giving it away. Well, it's two stories crammed in to one told by the present, memories, and dreams. It's also an alternative "Phase One."

Disclaimer: JJ Abrams own Alias, which includes Vaughn, but once I find out how to clone him… Mwahaha.

_A fear settled over Scarlett Avery as she awoke upon a chilling cement floor. She squinted into the darkness of the room, the fear causing the walls to close in on her like a claustrophobic nightmare. Her head throbbed; she groaned as she lifted it off the hard wall, rotating her neck to stretch the sore muscles. Slowly her consciousness fluttered back, and she restored enough cognizance to ask herself: where am I?_

_Her eyes adapted to the sinister obscurity of the room and absorbed her surroundings: pink stone walls, dripping with condensation, and obviously dimly lit. It seemed only a single bulb of low wattage swung above her head. Scarlett spied perhaps a chair on the far side of the chamber. The darkness made it difficult to know for certain. Or maybe it was another person._

_"Hello?" she scratched out, evoking a coughing fit. "Is someone there?" Her voice sounded strong this time. Though no answer._

_She attempted to readjust her tender body against the wall, promptly recognizing chains binding her wrists to the damp, pink barrier. Swinging them idly, she felt a stinging discomfort as the cuffs lacerated her flesh. They fell limply beside her ears, and her eyes focused on her skinny legs; her dirty, aching legs. The extremities appeared particularly small against the large bulge of her stomach._

_Suddenly her wrists battled the chains as she yearned to rub her stomach, to tell her baby everything was all right. Her motherly instinct died down, and her struggle soon ended. She fell back against the wall in exasperation, tears welling in her eyes._

_Studying her stomach further, memories unfurled in her mind. But where was she, and how did she get there? The last thing she remembered… Putting away the laundry. And her husband, he had been away. Scarlett wracked her brain for the memories. She remembered walking downstairs in eerie silence and seeing her worst nightmare standing in her living room._

_Her fists clenched beside her face, the pain a mere distraction now. He was responsible for this, she knew without a doubt. She had ruined him, reduced him to nothing, desolated his corrupt reign as master of the underworld. And he wanted revenge._

_As the baby kicked her an extreme sense of relief washed over her, but also, she never felt more scared. He would do anything to obtain his satisfaction. Anything. Her baby still retained life, two months, and she would become a mother; her husband a father. And this man would thwart that, at all costs._

_She heard a loud crash as an unnoticed door swung open. A blinding light from the hallway captivated her sight, and she squinted into its brightness. Soon a single figure blocked the light's path. Leaving the door open, he stepped forward into the room. He appeared patient, perhaps cautious to the untrained eye, but truly, he was simply prepared._

_Scarlett's fists clenched again as the light cast upon his face. Her wrists struggled against the chains and she stared at him with malice._

_"Sydney Bristow." The name resounded in her head like a faded memory; how long had she been called Scarlett Avery? "I've been waiting for this for far too long."_

_"What are you going to do, torture me?" She had seen worse. She could survive whatever he threw at her, the bastard. She was Sydney Bristow, after all._

_Sloane laughed in response. "You desecrated me. You left me as prey for the lions. But even the impoverished survive…" His lips twisted into a corrupted smile. "Do I want to torture you, Sydney Bristow? No. I want worse. I want you to suffer the most excruciating anguish of your life, I want to see you at the bottom of the food chain. I want your soul annihilated."_

_She breathed heavily for a moment, watching his malevolent self pace in and out of the stream of light. She watched his eyes focus on something: her stomach. "No!" she protested immediately. "No! Leave my child alone! Don't you dare hurt my baby!"_

_"If you insist…" He receded into the darkness, the evil glare in his eyes highly detectable despite the lack of luminosity. She peered back into the brightness of the doorway as two guards dragged a man between them._

_She recognized him instantly, and screamed, "Michael!"_

_The lights in the room flashed on, forcing her to close her eyes yet again. She pried them open anyway, the stinging in her pupils causing tears to fall. When finally focused, she observed the unknown object in the room was indeed a chair. The guards shoved him into it, and he sank pitifully. She noticed cuts and bruises covering his face and she bit her tongue, wanting desperately to scream. She made herself look away, only to discover wires, cords, devices of torment along with the chair. She screamed anyway._

_And Sloane's plan became utterly clear to her. He never had any intentions of killing the baby, he knows that won't destroy her. But watching her husband die before her eyes would be worse than death._

_"No, no," was all she could whisper as she jerked against the chains, blood trickling down her arms. _

_She heard the electricity building up; she stared directly into her husband's eyes, the only undamaged feature on his face. She watched as he stared hard at her stomach, his baby, before he met her gaze. He knew he would die. "I love you, Miss Scarlett," he told her, tears streaming down her face._

_Someone could still save them, someone must. "No, Michael…" she cried, not wanting to believe this was the end._

_Meanwhile Sloane's fingers gripped the rubber handle of a lever, his eyes twinkling with sadistic delight. He had waited three years for this, three long, tortuous years. In a swift movement she pulled down on the level, and electricity seared through the man's body._

_She watched the first shock in horror; his eyes closed in agony, he screamed. His jaw quivered as Sloane laughed on, and she knew there was no one to rescue them. "I love you, Vaughn."_

"_I… I love you… Syd–"_

_She screamed as they delivered the final blow, writhing on the floor as he jolted in the chair. And suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over._

"_No!" she screamed, fighting harder against the chains. "No!" She gaped through tears at his twitching foot. Twice… Three times… Once… No more. She leaned over and vomited, glaring back at Sloane with hatred as bile dripped down her chin. "You son of a bitch," she hissed at him. Vaughn's looming corpse was too much for her. She closed her eyes and screamed, "You son of a bitch!"_

She opens her eyes and she is panting in her bed. Alone. Her right hand immediately finds her stomach, and she glances at his side of the bed: empty. Just her, and the baby, who squirms restlessly inside her mother's womb.

Sydney can't catch her breath, nor can she calm down. Something in the air is not right. She remains seated in her bed with her hand protectively resting on her stomach, too scared to move. But somehow the silence around her is discomforting.

The sudden creak of a floorboard startles her and her eyes dart to its origin. She stares curiously at the bathroom door, which is partially closed. She hears, "Sydney, are you all right?" and watches him lean against the frame, pushing the door open all the way.

Dumbstruck, she gapes at him in his boxers and white t-shirt. "It's not safe to call me that," she whispers sharply. She notices she is no longer panting. "What are you doing?" Her fear returns. He knows the danger, why is he risking it?

"No, it's safe now. Sloane can't bother you anymore, remember?" He steps towards her, and she yearns for his touch. She waits impatiently for him to edge onto the bed and stroke her face, followed by a gentle kiss. She finds his hand joining hers atop her rounded belly. He smiles. "Don't forget, Jack's coming today to help you move back to Los Angeles."

She nods. Los Angeles, well, it has been a long time since she has been there. In fact, she recalls her last day there clearly.

_Never had Sydney experienced such a high. Little could possibly compare to her feelings that day. Not one person from her past, not one drug, not even an Olympic gold medal came close to giving her this euphoria. A smile crept onto her face just thinking about the events of last night._

_Aside from her euphoria, she felt truly free: free from lies, free from SD-6, free from Sloane, free from protocol… An image of Vaughn popped into her mind and her smile grew rapidly. If people had glanced over to her as she drove, they would have seen and prominent glow about her._

_Last night, the CIA received intel that allowed them to take down the Alliance. Every cell was eliminated, every agent in captivity in facilities worldwide waiting to be questioned. They hadn't managed to locate Sloane, but his entire life's work was sabotaged. Sydney felt that was good enough._

_She remembered standing in the rubble, inspecting the damage, taking it all in. SD-6 was truly gone, and she could hardly believe it. The floor in which she had worked for so many years was barely recognizable. Her desk, broken in wooden chunks, lay scrambled amongst bits of what she assumed had once been her computer. Wires hung from the ceiling, showering cascades of sparks down to the floor._

_Then she spotted something that caught her breath. Michael Vaughn's eyes had locked with hers across the room. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, she could only stare. Her legs took steps forward, yet she felt a floating sensation. Her body tingled as he walked toward her; as he held her body to his; as he kissed her passionately amid a disaster zone. Weiss tried to interrupt once, but they ignored him. She had a matter of much greater importance on her hands at the moment. She rubbed her hands through his hair as he planted more soft kisses on her lips. She quickly caught her breath and grew hungry for more. _

_She had no idea how long they stood there kissing, but it was the main reason for her current state of euphoria. She was meeting him later that night. They could go on a real date, and not worry about pesky spies attacking them during a romantic meal._

_She pulled into a gas station next to a pump and proceeded to fill her near empty tank. As she waited outside a cool, yet refreshing breeze whisked across her skin and she smiled again into the sun. A dark sedan with tinted windows pulled in behind her, but she was too preoccupied by the thought of Vaughn to think anything of it._

_After the tank had filled, she walked towards the building to pay. Glancing into the glass door, she saw the reflection of the black sedan. She saw a door opening and foot step out before she opened and the door and entered. A teenager worked behind the counter at this time. He was slow, forcing Sydney to wait impatiently behind two people for longer than she had intended._

_Sydney focused on a Pepsi display to her left, watching the reflection carefully as the man crossed the threshold. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a thick chest, and looked incredibly out of place in a gas station, especially when compared to the other customers. He wore a suit and dark sunglasses; particularly formal. _

_Her eyes widened slightly as the reflection showed him reaching into his pocket, and she dove into the next aisle just as he pulled out a gun. She luckily dodged the bullet, which instead exploded into the Pepsi display. Soda fizzed down broken shards of glass as Sydney crawled to the end of the aisle, stopping next to a rack of potato chips. She hurried to retrieve the small hand gun from her purse._

_Looking above, she noticed a convex mirror resting in the corner. The man's feet crunched over broken glass and crept forth down the aisle she had darted into. She saw the young cashier trembling behind the register, the customers standing in fear with their hands raised up. _

_Sydney rolled on the hard floor to the next aisle where she began to think. Who was this man, and why was he after her? She needed an escape plan. Somehow she would have to get to her car, but first she needed to leave the building somehow. She could deal with this guy, he would be the least of her worries. Once she got outside, there would be others in the dark sedan; the man had exited from the rear passenger seat. There was at least one other, his driver. Possibly more._

_The man then noticed the mirror, and he locked eyes with Sydney. A small smile curled on his lips as he thought he had her trapped in. She was on the floor. Either direction he went, forward or back, he could be quicker. Suddenly Sydney raised her gun towards the mirror, and his smile faded in confusion. She began to shoot, watching the bullets and glass ricochet off the mirror in every which direction, causing the man to plummet to the ground and take cover. Sydney used her feet to scoot backwards on her butt, continuing to shoot towards the mirror. Finally she had a clear run towards the door and she pushed up as hard as she could, racing to the door._

_The wind took her by surprise, yet she kept her cool and shot the tires of the dark sedan. Still on the run and shooting, she made it to her car and turned her key in the ignition as quickly as he could, praying it wouldn't stall. Much to her delight it did not, and she whipped it into drive and slammed on the gas. She sped through the streets, nervously checking her mirrors. There were other cars following her now. She could see them increasing their speed behind her; she could see their eyes narrowing at her from affront._

_Damn it, she thought this was all over._

"Sydney?"

"Hmm?" Sydney. It feels good to hear him speak her name again.

"I have to stay behind a few days, to take care of the house and some things at the bookshop."

"Days?" she asks. That seems long. The longest she has been away from him is hours. Can she survive days? She pulls his hand into the crook of her neck in thought. "Do you have to?"

"Yes," he answers sadly, finding his way to embrace her. "And I have to leave soon. You'll have left with Jack by the time I get home."

She leans her head against his shoulder, a slight stretch over her protruding stomach. "Days?" she asks again, not wanting it to be true. She feels his nod and sighs.

Her fingers tangle in his hair and he pulls away slightly. "You should take a shower and eat something, I'll be there when you need me." He gives her a smile, and she cannot help but lean in and kiss him. She pulls away abruptly when she feels a kick from within, and her hand falls to the precise spot on her stomach. Vaughn reaches for the spot, feeling the tap, tap, tap in awe.

After a moment together in silence, Vaughn helps her out of bed and guides her to the shower. He turns on the hot water as she undresses. Before she slips into the warm wetness, she tilts her head up for a last kiss. "But who's going to help me put my socks on?" she asks with a smirk, beaming when he responds with a laugh.

Then he sighs. "I need to leave." He kisses her temple and waits until she is securely in the shower, where she is drowned by an energizing warmth. She can still feel his fingers lingering over her skin as she watches his shadow disappear from the bathroom. And once again, she is alone.

A/n: I hope you understand the format of how this is written. If it's at all confusing, it should become clearer as the chapters progress. So, are you still interested? Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 2

A/n: Thank you so much for your feedback, everyone! For those of you confused I think the format will begin to make sense to you. Enjoy Chapter 2!

As soon as Sydney steps out of the shower, she feels Vaughn's absence. She shivers briefly and grabs for her bathrobe, wrapping it snugly around her dripping wet body. It is tighter around her bulging belly, she notices.

While blow drying her hair, she tries to remember her life in Los Angeles. Somehow, that time seems vague. She must strain to picture the faces of Will and Francie, and the memory of their apartment feels like a dream. She envisions her father walking briskly through the halls of the CIA, meeting with Kendall, his condescending tone ringing out sharply. Weiss is there, sitting at his desk, reading over a file. She assumes Marshall and Dixon have joined the CIA after the fall of SD-6. And she remembers her mother, a wild animal held captive in a cage. She wonders how or if everything has changed since she and Vaughn left.

She shuts off her hair dryer, the following silence alarming her as she drops her robe to the floor and changes into clothes from the dresser. A full suitcase rests on the bed; Vaughn must have packed for her.

Sydney walks down the narrow stairway with one hand over her stomach. She glances into the living room and sees it filled with boxes, it reminds her of when they moved in. Though drawn by the living room's usual comfort, she turns left into the kitchen and scours the cupboards. She craves peanut butter and opts to make toast. She feels her baby squirm at the mere thought of peanut butter, her only craving throughout her pregnancy.

The pot of water on the stove is still warm from this morning. She pours herself a cup of tea as she waits for her toast and eases herself into a chair. A newspaper sits at the other end of the table, yet she does not feel the need to read it. After all, she is returning not only to Los Angeles, but to America. She sips idly at her tea, returning her thoughts to her last time in California.

_It took her nearly an hour to shake all of them off. She sped around corners and drove without a sense of direction until she spotted no one around. By then she found herself driving through hills, concluding she was indeed in the middle of nowhere. Her eyes darted to her purse and hand gun in the seat next to her, and she grabbed for her purse. She pulled out her cell phone, tossing the purse aside, and dialed for the CIA._

_She finally got Kendall on the line. "Agent Bristow?"_

_"Someone needs to come pick me up," she told him, pulling her car off the road into a clearing. "I'm being followed, I can't head back into the city. Whoever it was already tried to shoot me in a gas station. I need to get in there right away–"_

_"We know. What are your coordinates?"_

_She told him, internally questioning his prior comment. Kendall knew she needed to get to headquarters? Perhaps he knew who was following her. But she did not have time to ask, he hung up before she got the chance._

_She waited impatiently inside her car. How long would it take for someone to arrive? She had not kept track of the time while trying to ditch the other cars. Eventually she realized her car would be left abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and she wanted no association with it. She went to work removing every bit of identification from the papers in the glove compartment to anything that may have slipped under her seat._

_She hesitated while sorting through the glove compartment. Was this action too extreme? She had only been followed. An agent would take her back to the CIA and they would sort everything out. She would get her car back, and life would return to normal. Or her new normal, which she planned to enjoy greatly. However, whoever was after her wanted her dead. That man had tried to shoot her in the gas station. Not to mention the many cars trailing her for God knows how long. Suddenly her precautions felt justified._

_Shortly after she had removed her license plate and wedged it into her purse, she could see a red pick-up truck roaming over the hills from the north. She lifted the hood of her car, pretending to have car trouble in case it wasn't the agent. The truck approached rapidly, but slowed down within Sydney's proximity._

_She looked over the truck's rusty appearance and faded decal that read, "Dusty's Landscaping." The driver's window lowered down, and a young unfamiliar face popped out. He had short, reddish hair, and his skin was lightly sprinkled with freckles. Sydney felt uneasy with his unfamiliarity. Could this be a set up? Could he work for whoever was after her? "Agent Bristow?" he asked in a low voice. Sydney gripped her gun which was concealed in her purse; she nodded. "Confirmation: looking glass."_

_She sighed in relief, he was CIA. He opened his door and stepped into the air, his shoes crunching on the gritty asphalt. Sydney wandered around to the passenger door. "Wouldn't it be better if I were hidden?" she asked, eyeing the two seater._

_"That's exactly what we were thinking." She raised her eyebrow at him for a moment before she looked back to the long bed. Following her gaze, he added, "No, no, in here." She watched as he lifted the seat of the bench, revealing a box-like area just large enough to hold a person._

_"No," she refused bluntly. The idea… It was ridiculous! He wanted her to hide under his seat?_

_"Yes."_

_"No."_

_"Yes!"_

_"Absolutely not–"_

_"Agent Bristow, there's a very serious matter at stake, we need to transport you to headquarters immediately."_

_"Why? Who is it? What–"_

_"I'm sorry, I'm not authorized to that information. Just get in the car, ma'am."_

_She stared down at him through the car, surprised he did not quiver under her Deadly Bristow Glare. He was a stubborn one, and she could tell arguing with him would only detain them further. Possibly endangering them. Besides, she wanted to know who was after her and why._

She said nothing as she stepped into the cab and lifted her legs into what resembled a casket. She slid down onto her back, curling her legs to fit inside. The young agent's face peered over the edge, his expression modest, he showed no sign of his victory. He simply had a job to do, and he had done it. All he had to do was transport her, and as he closed the seat back into place, he sighed, starting the car and driving back into the city.

The toaster pops and knocks her from her reverie. She sets her tea on the table and slowly pushes herself out of the chair. Grabbing a knife from the drawer and the tub of peanut butter from the cabinet, she salivates as she smears the creamy spread atop her crispy toast. She does not bother to find a plate; she simply bites into the bread and feels utter satiation emanate from within. A sigh of relief escapes her lips and she settles back into her chair, her free hand cupping her warm tea mug. She remembers insisting, no, demanding that Vaughn import peanut butter for her. The American kind, she remembers saying, because the kind in Europe was "funny." He had argued with her, telling her something preposterous such as, "Nutella is a perfectly good substitute." But no, he was not the pregnant one, was he. She smiles at the memory.

She hears a knock at the door, and again she hoists herself from the chair. She carries her tea with her to the door. Unlocking it, she pulls it open and fills the space between the frame and the knob. Outside in the snow stands her father, and she cannot recall a time when she has felt so glad to see him. "Dad."

He looks… Different. Older perhaps. But mostly, she notices his weary expression, the addition of slight worry lines on his forehead. She watches his eyes immediately fall to her stomach, which protrudes boldly from the door. "Sydney," he says quietly, "you're… you're pregnant."

Her hand settles nervously upon her bulge. She has briefly forgotten the many things her father was not aware of over the years. She watches as he hesitantly lifts his hand into the air, about to touch her, yet he stops, placing his hand back at his side. He vaguely remembers the days when his ex-wife was pregnant, and how she hated having her stomach touched.

Finally, he offers Sydney a weak smile and she leans in to embrace him. Deeply she inhales his scent, awakening hidden memories from her past. She invites him inside as she pulls away.

He waits in the miniscule foyer and his eyes wander the premises. Sydney watches him out of the corner of her eye as she downs the remainder of her tea and sets the empty mug into the sink; she will leave it for Vaughn to take care of. She proceeds to wipe her breakfast crumbs off the table and is soon consumed in a yawn: her arms stretch upwards, her back muscles release and tighten.

Jack leans against the wall, staring into the kitchen. Sydney turns to him, somewhat amused by his expression. Through his weariness she finds concern, sadness, even pity. She tries to imagine his situation, losing all contact with his daughter for three years, and discovering her in a very different state than when he last knew her. She had been single then, and overly involved in work, flying all over the world covertly and going undercover. And now here she is, pregnant, married, and more concerned with baby names than terrorist organizations.

"Are you… ready to leave?" he asks after a moment. She nods. "Where are your bags?"

"Upstairs."

He flashes another weak smile before turning, slowly making his way to the second floor of the house. Sydney takes a deep breath, this is it. She is leaving this life once and for all. No longer shall she be Scarlett Avery, no longer shall she live in this rickety old house, no longer shall she reside in Switzerland. She wanders from the kitchen to the living room and stares once again at the many boxes.

She hears her father's feet pound down the stairs behind her. "Sydney?"

"I'm ready," she declares, more to convince herself than Jack. He opens the door wide enough for her to pass, and she backs away slowly towards the opening. She reminds herself, she will be with Vaughn again soon, he will take care of the house, the bookshop, make sure their possessions are transported properly and they will be together again soon. But at last, she tears her eyes away from the boxes–and the thought of her husband–and she makes her way out the door to Jack's rental car.

She waits as Jack drops her suitcase into the truck, and he drives them to an airfield. There they meet the private jet, set to fly non-stop to Los Angeles.

The flight is uncomfortable from the beginning. She fidgets in her seat and her baby consistently kicks at her left side. All she wants to do is sleep, feel Vaughn's arms envelop her, hear him whisper sweet thoughts into her ear. In attempt to distract herself she settles her eyes upon the beauty of the Alps below her. Snow has peacefully sprinkled their peaks, and sunlight dances over sparkling whiteness. She thinks that her husband would love this image as she drifts into an uneasy slumber.

_Thirty minutes later the car turned off, and thankfully so. Sydney yearned to stretch her legs again, wiggle her toes, to shift her back from its uninterrupted crooked position. The heat and humid atmosphere of the box caused her to take shallow breaths, and she felt her hair sticking to the sweat that dripped down her neck._

_A small fear, or not so much a fear as a foreboding sense of unease, voiced itself in her mind: this must be what it feels like to be buried alive. She heard the creak of wood above her as the driver slid off the cushion, his feet hitting the pavement like nails pounding her coffin. A small gasp abruptly escaped her lips when the driver lifted the top. She expected the bright sunlight to stream into the darkness of the casket, yet she discovered mere lights of a parking garage straining to cast shadows among the few cars present._

_The young agent, as she now came to think of him, assisted her out of the box and led her inside the building. Sydney briefly wondered why he was leading her, but as soon as they entered the building it became clear. As a double agent, she consistently maintained her cover by jogging through the park, handing change to the street-clothed agent, and entering the building through a secret inlet guised as an abandoned structure. It had never occurred to her how others entered, the "normal" way. A parking garage. An entry code. It was as simple as that. However, it was not simple for Sydney Bristow for the door in which they entered was new and unfamiliar to her, and she had never seen this part of the Joint Task Force Center before._

_She followed hesitantly down crowded hallways, passed quiet offices, until finally she recognized the wing for the prison ward, where her mother resided. The young agent ahead of her must have noticed her paused glance at the wing; when she turned her head to continue on he stood expectantly a foot in front of her. This action startled her but she concealed it well._

_"I take it you know where we are now?" he asked with caution, eyes level to hers. She nodded, her eyes wandering over the freckles on his face. He instructed her to meet with Director Kendall, who was waiting in the conference room._

_She heard his instructions clearly, yet she did not plan on following them. She wanted to find Vaughn, talk with him about the significance of last night, perhaps where they were going… Her eyes scanned the area for him. His desk was empty. It was then she realized the young agent remained standing at his post, waiting for her to enter the conference room across the open hallway. "Agent Bristow…" he began to warn. No deviations from his plan would be allowed; she would find Vaughn later. For now, she needed to know who wanted her dead, and why. She marched towards the room as soon as he had opened his mouth._

A/n: Please review, I have to go to a funeral and would love to have something to look forward to when I get home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 3

A/n: You all are awesome reviewers! Thanks! So keep up the good work and R&R this chapter, please. The flashbacks in this one will help you all understand Syd's situation, by the way.

"Sydney, wake up, we've landed." Jack's voice soothingly awakens his daughter. She groans slightly and focuses her vision out the window. Rain droplets drip down the glass, blurring the image of the airport behind them. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, tearing her eyes away. Her eyes are clouded with sleep, and she feels slightly sick to her stomach. The dull beam of the airplane lights lull her into a daze as she watches her father gather their carry-on bags from the overhead compartment.

He offers his free hand to Sydney, who immediately clutches her aching back. She finds it ironic that she had dreamed of such, vaguely remembering driving in a casket-like box. Her back begins to throb as they slowly make their way off the plane, and the pain expands to her head. The baby kicks once more at her abdomen; she bites her tongue, wanting to cry. Where is Vaughn to comfort her in her distress? Where is he to kiss her temple and massage her back?

"Sydney…?"

She glances up at her father, not realizing she stopped herself against a wall. His expression is inquisitive, his eyes asking if she's all right. "I'm okay," she answers him casually, pushing off from the wall to waddle beside him, "just pregnant." She tries to flash him a smile for reassurance but cannot, instead holding a wince from contorting her face.

They approach the baggage pick-up, and Jack finds a bench for Sydney to rest. She pushes her back into the wall in attempt to ease her pain; internally she pleads with her baby to stop writhing inside of her. Before Sydney is ready to stand again her father appears in front of her with Sydney's suitcase, and he helps her up onto her feet. Once again she feels the heaviness of her body slow her usually brisk walk.

At last Sydney finds herself getting situated in her father's car. She hears the slam of the trunk, followed by the opening of the driver side door. Jack climbs in and begins talking while sliding the key into the ignition. "For now, you are staying at my place. And you are welcome there for as long as you need before you find new residency for yourself and…" He allows himself to drift off, casting a quick glance at her stomach.

Somewhat conscious, she brings her right hand to rest over her bulging middle. She expects to go house hunting as soon as Vaughn returns. How she already misses their small Swiss home, creaking stairs and all. She has accumulated so many visions in her imagination there, like watching the baby sleep soundly in the nursery, Vaughn's arms wrapped tightly around her as he whispers about how beautiful and perfect their daughter is. She has imagined many late night feedings, dirty diapers, games of peek-a-boo… All in that nursery, in that house. She almost wishes they would not have to find a new place to clasp those dreams, yet she cannot wait fill that new place with memories.

It is not long before the car stops and she follows her father into an upscale apartment building. They pass the elevator and descend three short steps before stopping at the first door on the left. Jack pulls out his keys, inspecting them rapidly for the proper one, and opens the door for Sydney.

Her eyes wander about, and she wants to explore, however her body takes control and she collapses on the large sofa in the living room. She kicks off her shoes and elevates her feet, relieving her back at last. Her eyes slip closed in the sudden relaxation, and when they contentedly reopen her father's face peers down at her.

"I put your bags into the spare bedroom, it's the second door down the hallway," he points absent-mindedly behind him. "I'm afraid I must leave for work now, though I can return for lunch if you'd like."

Sydney checks her watch, but remembers it is set to the wrong time zone. "What time is it?" she asks, stretching her arms behind her head.

"A little after five," he responds plainly.

Morning, she presumes. She nods at her father in reference to his earlier question. "I'd love to have lunch with you."

He nods at her, and wants to smile. She sees the corners of his lip twitch, however, he cannot bring himself to do so. There is still something in the way he looks at her that stops him.

Sydney hears his footsteps drift away, and the opening and closing of the door. Her stomach rumbles with hunger; she lacks the strength to move. Her back feels sweet alleviation, and her baby girl is finally at rest. Though with the absence of the kicks, her father having left for work, and Vaughn back in Europe, she feels utterly alone.

_She heaved the door open with more force than expected. She was ready to beeline to Kendall and ask him a million questions, to hear direct answers, to solve the problem in an hour and move on to bigger and better things. Yet she found herself in the middle of a heated argument between the director and her father, who inhaled heavily and ignored the opening of the door. Beside the two men sat Vaughn, deep in thought, not acknowledging the fight before him nor Sydney's presence._

_"How can we consider that an option?" Jack gritted through his teeth. "There are too many people, chances for her getting recognized–"_

_"Yes, but outside the country, Jack!" Kendall countered, equally angered. "You of all people should see this as the smartest solution."_

_"Smartest? We need the safest solution, this concerns my daughter…"_

_A surge of deep rooted confusion took over her. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"_

_Sydney stood with her arms crossed against her chest, her brow furrowed. The men stopped abruptly, shocked to see her standing before them. Even Vaughn was knocked from his daze._

_Jack straightened his tie. "Sit down." _

_Sydney hesitated before locking eyes with Vaughn. Unable to read the expression on his face, she declined. "I'd rather stand."_

_Jack and Kendall each moved to their seats before Kendall stated bluntly, "It's Sloane. He's after you."_

_She wasn't surprised, nor was she sure why this was a big deal. "So I stay here for awhile, until things wash over."_

"_It's not going to be that easy."_

"_Then…" She quickly formulated a plan in her head. "We'll lure him in with something… Alert him of a Rambaldi device, that will get his attention–"_

"_This is no time for sarcasm. I don't think you understand the significance of this situation. We have word that he's waiting to attack. And he doesn't want you dead, he wants you alive."_

"_Then why was someone trying to kill me at the gas station?"_

"_He clearly wasn't trying to kill you," Jack concluded. "Merely an attempt to capture you and bring you under his possession."_

_Possession. Sydney did not like that word, nor the tone in which her father used it. But in all seriousness, she thought they were blowing this out of proportion. They had just brought down SD-6 and the Alliance cells, hadn't they? Sloane could be just as easy… "And I can't simply stay here for a few days until we arrest him?"_

"_Bristow, this looks long term."_

_A knot emerged in Sydney's stomach. Long term? She gulped down her fear. "Witness Protection?"_

"_No," Jack answered this time. "Sloane could easily gain access to that information if he wanted to."_

_Sydney stepped forward and slid into a chair. They were telling her she had to hide from Sloane. After everything that bastard put her through… Even when she brought his reign of the underworld to an end, he still weaseled his way into screwing up her life. No, she would never run from him. She couldn't. She would face him and his revenge, and she would prevail. But glancing up at the faces of her father and Kendall, she knew that that would not be an option._

_Her doubts did not stop her from voicing her opinion. She looked to Vaughn for support as Jack and Kendall shot down her plane of hopes, but all she received back from him was the worried creases of his forehead._

"_I have to hide… from Sloane?" she asked after a moment, adjusting._

"_Your arrangements are yet to be determined," Kendall darted a look at Jack. "We'll regroup in an hour. But for now, Agent Bristow, you are not to vacate the premises."_

Sydney grabs the remote and begins flipping through channels. All the English is a peculiar sound to her. Perfect, correct, unaccented English, like an orchestra belting out Tchaikovsky. She still so distinctly expects to hear German or French tugging at the pronunciation, but it does not exist.

Thinking of the German makes her think of home, with Vaughn. She wanders to the kitchen and presses the phone to her ear, her fingers racing to press the numbers. She is desperate to hear his voice again, to tell him how much she loves him, to hear how much he loves her, how he misses his girls and will see them soon. The rings seem endless, and finally Sydney hangs up. He's not there.

As she sighs her eyes wander the kitchen. She spots a ripe banana bunch resting by the sink, emanating an appetizing aura that makes her salivate. And with a gentle squirm from her abdomen she is reminded how she has not eaten in awhile. After pulling one away from the bunch, she digs her thumb into the top and peels a section of the slick yellow covering halfway down the fruit, then she decides to explore the apartment.

The kitchen is neat and spotless, though dark, the bunch of bananas its only source of radiance. She turns around, walking slowly through the comfortable living room and the background noise of the morning news broadcasters, making her way to the hallway on her left.

As previously told, Sydney finds her bags in a spare bedroom, the second door down the hall. It is a medium L-shaped room with white walls and a warm-looking queen size bed. Immediately Sydney imagines how empty that bed will feel for a few nights until she reunites with her husband. She begins to unpack her clothes into the oak dresser settled into the corner, but before she finishes the shrill ring of the telephone echoes throughout the apartment. She races to the bedside table and grabs the cordless phone quickly, picking it up with her fingers– her knuckles turning white –and pressing it firmly against her face.

Vaughn. It must be Vaughn. Her reasoning lasts milliseconds: no one else would possibly call Jack Bristow during work hours, especially when no one else lives with him. She finally launches her energy in her larynx. "Hello?"

The lack of a response causes her heart to drop. "Hello?" she tries again, somewhat more optimistically. "Vaughn?"

Yet there is no one there, Sydney is certain now; she gingerly places the phone back in the register slowly and draws her arm back to her body. In her sudden melancholy she forgets her half-unpacked suitcase and slinks back to the couch in the living room. There she balls herself into a corner and grabs a pillow to squeeze to oblivion. She tries to accommodate her body to press the pillow against herself, but her protruding stomach obstructs her usual comfort methods and she throws the pillow against the floor in her frustration. Instead she hugs her rounding stomach and burrows deeper into the corner.

_Feelings of rage and helplessness swarmed about Sydney, dissolving into the oxygen and suffocating her. She held in her breath for far too long before bolting from her seat and exiting the conference room. She could not leave the building, but damn it, she sure as hell could leave that office._

_Her legs took over and wandered aimlessly, her vision glued to the floor, her brain became void of any thoughts. Before she knew it she found herself retracing her steps from earlier, backpedaling to when she did not know. Her legs stopped quite suddenly, and she finally lifted her eyes: she was once again at the prison ward. Briefly she wondered if she should talk to her mother… But no, she lacked the strength to even look at her, let alone speak with her._

_Sydney turned around and strolled back slowly, trying to take in everything that had happened. It all began on an SD-6 sanctioned mission to Paraguay. She infiltrated a facility and retrieved the Intel as usual, however this information would directly aid in securing Arvin Sloane a position in the Alliance of Twelve. And while she made contact with the CIA, they discovered they could use it to backfire Sloane's plan, ultimately leading to the downfall of SD-6. This meant that, last night, the Alliance crumbled, leaving Sloane weak, powerless, and with very few allies. They knew it was his agent who had betrayed him, and he knew it was Sydney Bristow. She was his traitor, and for that, she would have to pay._

_At that point, someone tugged on her arm, and she turned to find Michael Vaughn's green eyes locking in with hers. She noticed he was out of his daze, and he looked determined, though nervous. He pulled her into a secluded corner of the building where they could talk alone. Sydney leaned against the wall as he closed the door, and it was easily seen that both their minds were jumbled with thoughts, worries, ideas…_

"_Syd, talk to me…" he urged in a soft voice just above a whisper. "I'm here."_

_She sighed, running her fingers though her hair to brush it off her face. "I just don't understand how this could be happening. Or really, I just don't believe this is happening." She had been ready to refresh her life here in Los Angeles: one free of lies and deceit, one that included Vaughn. Now that possibility was gone. She would have to become a complete new person in some exotic place entirely alone. Aside from three people, who would know Sydney Bristow existed? Who would say, "I remember her?" Who would she talk to free of lies?_

_In her worry and uncertainty she slid into Vaughn's embrace, feeling his tender support wrap around her._

"_I want to go with you."_

_She pulled away in shock, not sure she heard him correctly. Looking up for reassurance, his gaze didn't falter, and his brow was furrowed in concern just as before. After further study in his eyes it became clear to her that he had been thinking this move through since he received word of her emergency relocation._

_But could she really do that to him? Rip him away from his life, friends, and family just for her? She wasn't sure she was willing to risk his life until she searched deeper in his eyes and saw his genuine care. "Vaughn," she started, but the rest of her words lagged behind. It was all she could say right now. She imagined their relationship building under this intricate web of lies, and how complicated the situation could potentially get. How could they just start over as different people after everything they had been through together? "I… I couldn't endanger you like that." But maybe that was why it just might work._

_He cupped a hand to her cheek, then took her hands and held them mid-air, an equal distance between their chests. "I can't imagine having to pretend you simply disappeared. What if this is the end? What if I don't see you for years? I need to have you in my life. After everything, I can't go on knowing I'm not there to protect you, to hold you when you cry, to kiss you when you're happy." He smiled faintly and continued. "You will not go through this alone. Someone should be there for you, let me be that someone. We can do this, we can make it work."_

_She lifted his knuckles to her face, planting a light kiss on each one, then she snaked her arms around his neck. "You'd really do that for me?" she asked, tears brimming her eyelids._

_He pulled her close again. "I'd do anything for you."_

A knock at the door startles Sydney, and she quickly composes herself. She lifts the pillow from the floor and sets it back into place on the couch as if nothing had thwarted it before. There is another rampant wave of knocking. Unable to press her body against the door to use the eyehole, she opens the door a crack and squints outside. Suddenly she pushes the door open and throws herself against the person standing in the hallway.

"Francie, I can't believe I'm seeing you." She pulls away in shock, a smile settling on her face for the first time in days. "How did you know I was here?"

"Will called me at work… Your dad told him…" Sydney steps back and takes in the sight of her best friend. When did she see her last? The morning Sydney left those three years ago, and without a proper good-bye. She can remember thinking that she would never see Francie again, and now… "Syd, you're- you're–" Her eyes focus on Sydney's stomach, and Sydney shyly moves her hand to cover her bulge.

"Yeah," is all she can say.

After a moment in silence Sydney welcomes Francie inside, and they seat themselves on the couch. Francie is the first to break the silence. "You were late for dinner, so I called your phone, but you didn't answer. And you just didn't come home… So Will told me about your job, and that you were gone. But neither of us knew what that meant."

"You thought I was dead?"

Francie shrugs. "No one would tell us any details. God, I hadn't heard anything until today."

"Will's still an analyst?"

"Yes, and I finally know the truth about his fake drug addiction. It's still hard to believe everything he's told me sometimes."

She grows quiet in reminiscence, and Sydney readjusts herself on the cushions. "Are you and Will…?" She lets her questions hang.

"Married. Two years this July."

"Congratulations," she smiles sideways.

"I should be congratulating you. If Will had told me you were pregnant I would have lost it. Well, okay, I lost it anyway, but it would have been worse. You know, after Will called me, I called here and you answered and it scared me half to death. Sorry about hanging up on you, I just needed to make sure Will wasn't making some twisted prank." They chuckle. "So you were in Switzerland? Married to Michael from work?"

Sydney nods faintly, instantly thinking of Vaughn. She has now been without him for a day. An entire twenty-four hour period. The longest Sydney has ever gone without seeing him, holding him, smelling his scent over the last three years. "There are so many things I want to tell you, so many things have happened, but I just can't; not yet."

Her friend nods knowingly. "I think we both have a lot to say."

Her fingers begin to burn in dire need to touch his skin. His soothing kiss has not graced her lips for an entire day? Deep in these thoughts, she is buried in her loneliness despite Francie's presence, and her need for him expands. Tears well in her eyes and rapidly spill over as Francie tries to comfort her friend. "I miss him," she whispers into Francie's shoulder.

"I know, sweetie, I know." Sydney feels Francie's hand pat her back as she cries into her shoulder. She had not wanted their reunion to be like this. Unfortunately, Sydney's pain has enveloped her and distracted her from what should be a joyous event. "I'm so sorry," Francie begins to apologize.

"No, no," Sydney stops her through her tears. She wipes at her cheeks, though her eyes continue to water. "I've just never been away from him this long." For the moment, she can no longer look at Francie, and her eyes settle upon her own stomach. Her hand subconsciously comes to rest there. "But we'll be all right," she whispers into the growing silence, her cries beginning to diminish.

After a few minutes in the quiet, Francie digs through her purse for a pen and piece of paper. She scribbles down her phone number, sets the slip onto the coffee table, and tells Sydney to call her or Will anytime she wants to talk.

"Thank you so much for coming," Sydney hugs her friend as they stand by the door.

She opens it, and Francie drifts outside. "I'm so glad you're home," she smiles.

"I'm glad to be home." Her eyes follow Francie's shadow as she disappears down the stairs and into the main foyer. The doorknob slips away from her fingertips and she blinks, startled, as the door comes to a close. Turning around to gaze at her father's apartment, she suddenly wants nothing more than to be with Vaughn back at home in Switzerland.


	4. Chapter 4

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 4

A/n: Thank you so much for the reviews! And in case you didn't catch my earlier note, Francie is not cloned and evil, it's just Francie. Okay, I think you guys will like this chapter. Enjoy!

_Sydney and Vaughn stood outside the door of the conference room where Jack Bristow and Director Kendall were undoubtedly arguing over the future of a prized agent. She felt Vaughn's strong grip around her hand, and glanced up at him briefly. They needed to alert them of the new situation as soon as possible, but was she ready? Vaughn's reassuring look convinced her. She was. She had to be._

_Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered briskly with Vaughn at her side. The voices of the two high ranking officers rose, but Sydney did not bother to listen to them. "Dad," she interrupted, "there's been a change of plans." Jack sighed, turning away from Kendall and addressing Sydney. He raised his eyebrows expectantly._

_Vaughn tightened his grip on Sydney's hand before he spoke. "I want to go with Sydney, wherever you're sending her."_

_Jack's expression failed to falter, though he lowered his eyebrows. "Absolutely not."_

_"Agent Bristow–"_

_"Agent Vaughn," Jack cut him off sharply, "may I remind you that your obligations to Sydney as her handler ended yesterday with the downfall of SD-6. I do not even know why your presence was called for this meeting."_

_Kendall licked his lips. "Now wait a minute, they might have a point." Jack pursed his lips, turning his head slowly in Kendall's direction. "Sloane would be on the hunt for one person, not two. And it doesn't hurt that Agent Vaughn is also a strong field agent."_

_Jack exhaled his breaths heavily, thoughts compiling in his head about how to counterpoint him. Sydney let go of Vaughn's hand and she approached her father. "Dad, please. I need this." She stared openly at him, letting her emotions show, letting him know of her fear and uncertainty of the future._

_She watched as his eyes wandered behind her, to Vaughn. "You understand everything you'd be leaving behind? What you're risking if you do this?"_

_Sydney turned around as he nodded solemnly. "Yes. Just make sure someone takes care of my dog for me."_

_Vaughn cracked a smile to Sydney as Jack turned back to Kendall. "Director, please make the arrangements for Agent Vaughn to accompany my daughter." Sydney smiled back at Vaughn, walking back to him and hugging him, not caring about her surroundings any longer._

Sydney does not sleep well that night in Jack's apartment. A prominent absence beside her on the bed leaves her cold in solicitude, and she is reminded each time her child writhes inside her. The baby is just as restless as her mother. Her mind lapses back to previously that afternoon, recalling an awkward lunch with her father. Neither knew quite what to say to the other; all the stories held deep in storage in Sydney's brain remained under lock, unable to find their way to her tongue. Very little was said.

She rises from bed reluctantly the next morning, long after Jack has left. She is mentally exhausted with little sleep and too much to think about. She settles in the living room with a small breakfast, mainly consisting of peanut butter. Downing it quickly, she sighs before easing back onto her feet and edging to the bathroom. There she draws a steamy bath, and lowers herself into it gingerly. She is grateful of the calming effect the warm water has on her baby, and at last she slips her eyes shut.

A comforting hand finds itself against her cheek, and she grins into its familiar warmth. Her eyes open expecting to meet his green gaze, but there is no one. The telephone is ringing off in the distance, and Sydney pulls herself from the lingering heat with slight agitation. She answers the phone with a towel wrapped around her shoulders, unable to cover her stomach. "Hello?"

"Sydney, it's me." Jack Bristow's voice echoes in a monotone. "I called to let you know that I will be held late at work tonight. I won't be home for dinner. My deepest apologies."

"It's okay."

"Feel free to eat anything you like."

After bidding their farewells, Sydney hangs up the phone and slinks back into the depths of the bed comforter. Her wet hair sticks to the pillow, and she can still feel water trickle down her ankles, but she is indifferent. She remains in this state for several minutes, her fingers wandering up and down the hill of her belly.

Finally, something in her causes her to stand, dry herself, and dress. She opts to braid her wet hair, not wanting to disturb the quiet with the noise of her hair dryer. Then she grabs the spare key given to her the previous day by her father and heads out the door into the balmy afternoon air. She finds it difficult to comprehend that it is April; back home the ground is littered with the last layer of snow, but Los Angeles is sunny and warm. She already misses a distinct change in the seasons, with memories of orange and yellow trees, waking up to freshly fallen snow, and those occasional perfect spring days flooding her mind.

As she wanders the neighborhood she becomes aware that this area is relatively new, and does not immediately recognize where she is. However, her deeper meandering reveals sights that stick out like mountains down memory lane. Before she knows it a salty breeze kisses her lips and an endless sky comes into view, shrouded only by the glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. It has cooled noticeably, and Sydney folds her arms atop her stomach in response. The wind blows her stray hairs about, whipping the wisps across her face as she seats herself at a wooden bench by the pier railing.

The sound of the undulating ocean is music to her ears and a lullaby to her baby girl. She wonders briefly about dinner, admitting secretly that she wishes for her father's presence despite their differences. She simply does not want to be alone.

Her eyes wander off the ocean, scanning her surroundings. At the time of day, Sydney is surprised there are not many people wandering around. This pleases her, however; fewer strangers to confront, to notice a partially distraught pregnant woman. Yet at the same time she yearns that people surround her, barricading her from lonely thoughts.

She hears the gentle creak of wooden planks behind her, alerting her that someone is approaching. Curiously, the noise stops close to her bench. "I thought I might find you here." The man's voice is sweetly trained to Sydney's ear, and she inwardly smiles as she turns around. "You always liked the pier."

"I thought you weren't coming for a couple of days," she whispers as her husband joins her on the bench and takes hold of her hand.

He kisses her fingers. "I took care of the house, then I left the bookstore in Klaus and Ana's hands. I couldn't bear to be there any longer."

The thought of their old friends gives her a good feeling. She looks up into Vaughn's eyes before leaning in to kiss his cheek, followed by his lips. Indeed, it has been far too long. "I missed you so much," she tells him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Tell me you won't go away for so long ever again."

At first, he is silent. She feels his hand against her stomach in search of the thump-thump-thump of their daughter's heartbeat. Once found, he whispers, "I can't guarantee anything."

"You're going back to the CIA, aren't you?" she asks. A chilly ocean breeze strews her wisps across her face and her body shivers. Vaughn ushers her to her feet, mumbling that they should begin walking back to Jack's apartment. But Sydney stares at him under furrowed brow. "Vaughn?"

He keeps his arm around her back in tight support. "I am."

Sydney wants to stop walking, to pull away from him, but she cannot. He need not explain himself, however, she knows why he must return. She knows his feelings of obligation, of patriotism, but she no longer shares it. "I can't go back."

"I know."

"I want to keep teaching. I miss those kids, I… I have to continue that."

They walk further in silence, content to merely be in one another's hold. They quickly reach the suburban neighborhood under a slowly darkening sky. Passing the houses makes Sydney voice a subconscious thought. "I don't want to live with my father any longer. I want us to get a house here. Soon." Vaughn agrees, they do not want to burden Jack. And with the arrival of the baby quickly approaching they will need their own space.

It does not take them long to return to Jack's apartment, and Sydney quickly retires to the couch, elevating her swollen feet with a sigh. She closes her eyes but does not sleep, perfectly satisfied to be resting after a long walk. Vaughn clanks about the kitchen, making sure she gets a bite to eat for dinner.

He accompanies her on the couch, where she graciously accepts the larger of the two plates for her meal. Vaughn smirks at her eating habits but says nothing as he takes his seat beside her. She eats her hefty helping, not to mention some of her husband's, and helps him clean up in the dark kitchen. They leave it just as spotless as they found it.

"He won't be home until late," she alerts Vaughn as he hugs her from behind, as close to her as he can get without the intrusion of her stomach. He nods against her head, kissing her shoulder.

Her body stretches into a yawn as they stand together in the dim light the living room provides. He moves his hands to massage her lower back. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

He leads her to their bedroom for the time being, knowing she is direly in need of a good night's sleep. They strip into sleeping attire and slip into each other's arms under the covers. They whisper to each other awhile longer, until Vaughn's soothing voice lulls her into deep, dreamless slumber. "It's okay now, I'm watching over you."

_Sydney and Vaughn didn't wait long before plans of action were revealed to them. After a series of various travel methods, their destination point was Köniz, a village just south of Bern, Switzerland. Their living quarters, yet to be established to them, would be in the village, while they worked in the larger city._

"_Won't we be at risk of being recognized there? There are several large banks and hotels, not to mention the government buildings–"_

"_Yes, we are aware of that," Kendall replied calmly. "Which is why Agent Vaughn's new profession will be of importance." He proceeded to explain how Vaughn's alias had recently purchased a book shop in Old Town. His store received books from several publishing corporations scattered about Europe, one being Livres d'Eiffel, a company front secretly affiliated with the Central Intelligence Agency. If Vaughn's store received books from this company, the CIA was alerting them of possible villainous activity, such as meetings among criminal organizations, in the Bern area. He was to check the listed locations of the publishing sites, using those as areas to escape to for several days._

_Sydney hardly had time to skeptically contemplate this method of communication before Kendall informed Sydney of her new job. She would begin working at a primary school as an English tutor. Apparently, education of the English language wasn't normally taught until higher years, but the school wanted to give their students a head start. Sydney sighed, it wasn't English literature, but it would do._

_Jack Bristow soon approached the three with two file folders. As he tossed them onto the table, he beckoned Kendall away to a phone call, leaving Sydney and Vaughn alone in the conference room._

_Sydney curiously sneaked her fingers under the folder's edge and flipped the cover. Her eyes scanned slowly over the sheets of paper neatly embedded within._

_Scarlett and Michael Avery_

_**Married: August 1, 2002**_

_Sydney focused on the word 'married.' Of course, when Vaughn decided to come with her, she assumed that their aliases would be together, possibly married, but seeing the actual term with an actual date… Glancing up, she caught Vaughn's eye, a similar expression cast upon his face. Slowly he flipped open the other folder to discover passports, credit cards, identification cards, and of course, two wedding rings enclosed in a plastic bag._

_After staring hard at the folder's shimmering contents a moment longer, Vaughn's fingers fumbled to the plastic bag. Sydney watched as he carefully slid them out into his palm, a sparkle shining Sydney's way as the diamond caught the light. Vaughn slipped the gold band onto his finger and lifted the diamond ring towards Sydney, who in response held out her left hand. She noticed a half smile on his face as he slid the ring into place. But they said nothing; they had no words for each other._

_It took Sydney a moment to compose herself again before she continued reading about their aliases. A detailed history of Scarlett revealed that she grew up in Illinois and had a younger sister named Madeline who she was not in close contact with. She attended Northwestern University, majoring in elementary education, and began teaching after graduation. She spent the summer of 2001 traveling Europe, where she met Michael Avery of France. Michael's history included details of his life growing up, and taking family vacations all over the world, including Bern, Switzerland. He had decided to attend college in America, but hadn't been back much since that time. He moved to America to continue his relationship with Scarlett and they decided to marry. Though after several more months in the United States, they wanted a change of pace and opted to move to Bern._

_Sydney was still reading the details of their history and further safety instructions when Kendall and Jack returned. "Have you made yourselves familiar with your aliases?" Jack asked, receiving nods from both younger agents._

_The remainder of the morning was spent preparing for travel and getting to further know their new identities, while Kendall and Jack arranged for furniture to be delivered to their new residence. But finally, after a change of clothes and a bit of disguising, Jack told them it was time to depart. Sydney stood from her chair and stared deep into her father's eyes. "No one," he began, "outside of this room is to know of your whereabouts." The statement weighed heavily on Sydney, but she listened as he continued to detail their flight plan. They would leave the building by helicopter and head to Las Vegas, followed by two planes, stopping in Toronto and Bern. "And under no circumstances are you to contact us directly. Unless…" He didn't need to finish his sentence, Sydney understood. Unless Sloane found them._

_The director then shook Sydney and Vaughn's hands, wishing them good luck, and Jack shook Vaughn's hand. Sydney hesitantly stood in front of her father before embracing him and telling him good-bye. She realized he would be the only person she would say good-bye to of all the people she cared about in her life._

_Sydney stared at the floor as she and Vaughn ascended in the elevator to the roof. This was it, they were leaving home. Whether she would return again in a month, a year, or never, she was unsure. She felt Vaughn squeeze her hand, a brief smile coming to her face. Inhaling a deep breath and exhaling a sigh, she and Vaughn made their way to the helicopter together, commencing their long journey to Switzerland._

_They arrived at their new home late at night, both very exhausted and drained from the long hours of flight and over-thinking their situation. As soon as the front door was unlocked, they spotted a mattress lying on the floor, and they both collapsed immediately, falling asleep within seconds._

A/n: Please review and let me know what you thought! Constructive criticism is always accepted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 5

A/n: Thank you for the reviews! But now it's time to admit, I, well, I forgot something important. **Penny** gets mad, mad props for helping me out with this story. I know she's like never on to read this stuff anymore, but still, I need to give her credit, because she helped me figure everything out one morning after I stole her muse. Again, mad props to her.

Assume any dialogue spoken in Bern is in German.

Much to Sydney's dismay, Vaughn must return to work the next morning, and she wakes to an empty bed. Most of her day alone is spent lounging around the apartment, inspecting the classified ads for houses in the area, and eating. Eric Weiss stops by around lunchtime carrying an overfed bulldog in his arms. He says he cannot stay long, but declares that Donovan deserves to be with her.

Jack clearly is not thrilled by the idea of a dog in his apartment upon returning home. This prompts Sydney to search harder for a home, and though she is picky she finds a small house not far from her father's complex. The house has two bedrooms and is slightly more spacious than the Swiss house, though Sydney is eager to be on her own again with her husband and soon-to-be-born daughter. She knows this house is a fine place to start.

A few weeks pass by, and furniture and full boxes from Switzerland are transported from storage to the new house. Once they close the deal, Sydney begins to unpack and allows Donovan to romp freely in the backyard while Vaughn works. They spend their dinners and evenings together and cherish every moment. She orders Vaughn around with a smirk as he moves couches, tables, and various baby furniture, always congratulating him with a kiss once he has moved them to their proper places.

The moving of the furniture quite often reminds Sydney of their arrival and first week in the village of Köniz. At times she even stops whatever she is previously doing in order to reflect. However, unlike the last house, Sydney opts not to decorate it as much as she would like, internally knowing they will not abide there for too long. Vaughn helps her place a simple teddy bear print border around the walls of the nursery instead of painting over residing walls. The baby's room is almost complete, lacking only a few items and of course, the baby.

As Vaughn heads off for a shower, Sydney eases herself into the rocking chair in the nursery, holding her stomach and gently humming to herself. Her eyes wander about the room, taking in each detail, comparing it to the smaller nursery back in Switzerland.

Donovan waddles his way through the door and settles himself on the rug in front of a few empty boxes on the floor. Sydney smiles inwardly at him, recalling a time when she first saw the spare bedroom, never imagining that it would one day become a baby's room. She closes her eyes, allowing the rocking to soothe her further into comforting memories, surrounded by boxes and the smell of new house.

_Sydney's eyes slowly blinked open to the close image of hardwood floors. She shivered into the cold morning air, her arm draped over the edge of the mattress onto the floor, and she pushed up from her stomach to roll onto her side. Expecting to see Vaughn lying beside her, she was disappointed when she discovered his absence. In brief confusion, she looked around and finally spotted him seated at a wooden chair at the foot of the mattress. She sighed and lifted herself to a sitting position, watching him carefully as he held two steaming cups and stared into the floor._

_Upon hearing a creaking mattress, he looked up and met her gaze. "Hey," he said softly, smiling sideways. She smiled back at him before he offered her one of the coffee cups, which she graciously accepted in the morning chill. She moved to the end of the mattress, closer to Vaughn. She gazed up at him for a moment, unsure of what to say, or how to act. How should she conduct herself in front of the person who gave everything up for her?_

_Her brain decided to avoid the subject for now. She scanned the room, taking in the scene of many boxes and some random furniture. By the looks of it, she figured she currently resided in the living room. Not far in front of her and to the right she could see the front door and the opening to a small foyer, beyond which she had yet to traverse. She heard Vaughn mumble something about finding a coffee maker in a box containing other kitchen appliances, amidst boxes of other things. He said they would have to sort through things and get settled._

_Sydney nodded simply, sipping her coffee in silence. Hardly a minute passed. Sydney felt Vaughn's eyes on her, though she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. She knew he wanted to work through the awkwardness. Finally he offered his free hand to her, asking, "Want to explore?" She agreed, taking his hand as he pulled her to her feet. They stood close together for a quick moment before Sydney followed Vaughn._

_They moved into the small foyer, a square of oak between the door and the stairs, the kitchen and the living room. They each peeked their heads around the corner into the kitchen. A single window on the back wall provided the only light as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and light streamed inside, illuminating the whiteness of its walls and tiled floor._

_She heard Vaughn's footsteps creep up the stairs and she decided to follow. They found the guest bedroom and bathroom at the top of the stairs off to the left, and a hall closet and master bedroom with private bathroom on the right. They entered the master bedroom together and stopped, staring at the metal frame of a bed sitting angled in the center of the room. Sydney realized that they slept in the same bed for the first time last night, though most unromantically, both with day old clothes on– which they were still wearing –and so exhausted they did not bother to find any blankets. Yet there it was; their bed, in their bedroom, in their house… Where Vaughn could hold her in his arms all night long, which he had yet to do._

_They stood and stared in silence, both deep in thought, both scared to say something. Vaughn broke first; "I guess we should… move the mattress up. Get it out of the way." They pushed the frame back against the wall and returned to the ground floor to retrieve the mattress. Lifting it onto its side proved difficult, it was much heavier than it appeared. They attempted moving through the doorway and rounding the corner up the narrow stairwell. For a moment, the mattress seemed stuck, a barricade from upstairs to downstairs, yet after some maneuvering and a few rest stops, they made it back to the bedroom and situated the bed properly._

_The couple decided to go through the boxes and get things settled. They organized the jumble of cardboard receptacles, finding the already opened box of kitchen appliances, silverware, and plates, others with towels and linens, and some with simple homely decorative items. After awhile, they realized their hunger, and Sydney sent Vaughn to bring back some sort of lunch while she continued to sort._

_Vaughn returned about forty-five minutes later with sandwiches to find Sydney sitting peacefully in a cleared out space on the couch that jutted uncomfortably at a diagonal through the room. He handed Sydney a sandwich a pulled the chair he had been sitting upon earlier that morning next to the couch. Sydney studied his rosy cheeks as he breathed heavily and warmed his hands. "Cold outside?" she asked._

_He simply nodded. "There's about three inches of snow on the ground." Sydney bit into her sandwich and noticed the trail of melted snow that followed Vaughn's footpath. He told Sydney that he drove into Bern (the CIA had nicely provided them with a silver Mercedes) and located his bookshop. Just down the street was the deli where he purchased their meal, and just a few blocks away on the river was Sydney's school._

_As they ate their sandwiches, Sydney noticed things between them were slowly becoming easier, and less awkward. They prolonged their break, continuing to talk long after they had finished eating. They laughed and joked a bit, but eventually conversation revolved back to the house, and Sydney revealed that she wanted to paint. Vaughn chuckled lightly in response. "What? What's so funny about that?"_

_"Nothing, nothing," he shook his head. He said he would go buy paint later, as well as some food for the kitchen._

_The remainder of the day was spent sorting and unpacking the seemingly endless boxes and scrounging for some dinner. They were finally able to shower (though not together) and change their clothes– Sydney was ecstatic to come across boxes and boxes of clean clothes –and go to sleep._

_Sydney acquiesced her body under a sea of blankets in bed as she gazed around the nearly empty room. Except for the bed and boxes of clothes, the only other furniture was a small lamps set on an empty box as a table. She tore her eyes away upon the sound of the bathroom door opening. Vaughn exited the bathroom fresh from the shower wearing only his boxers, his muscles particularly defined in the dim light. She watched him walk to his side of the bed and slide in next to her. She dropped the French novel that rested on her chest to the floor; there was too much on her mind to read._

_Vaughn settled his body into the bed, and with a bit of disappointment she turned to turn off the lamp. When her head made its way back to her pillow, she felt Vaughn's eyes on her. She paused, unsure what to do besides gaze back, and he took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Goodnight," he whispered, hesitating before kissing her cheek. Though his face lingered closely, and Sydney quickly turned her head in to meet his lips._

_When they parted she could feel his mouth form a smile, and he knowingly wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his breath against her forehead as she snuggled into his chest, still warm from the shower. "Goodnight," she whispered back, closing her eyes._

"Sydney? Syd?"

She shakes herself from a daze and focuses in on Francie. She holds up a tiny outfit from the clothing rack, staring at her friend expectantly. "Sorry… What?"

"I asked you what you thought of this." Sydney inspects the duck design, her eyes settling on the orange bill as she folds her arms atop her stomach, and shrugs. In frustration, Francie sighs and places the hanger back on the rack. "I thought you wanted to come shopping with me today. We have just over a month before this baby comes and she won't have anything to wear."

Sydney idly scratches her neck and nibbles on the end of the straw gouging out of the large paper cup that previously held lemonade, but contains only ice now. Truthfully, she wants to take care of the baby products left to buy, and she wants to make up for lost time with her best friend, but she is confused. She cannot make sense of the thoughts in her head and her feelings, and the last thing she wants to do is shop. Her ankles are swollen, her back is killing her, she cannot stay focused on her task: a hunt for baby clothes, among other things.

Slamming her cup of ice in a quick downward motion, she tilts the cup and tries to suction any melted water into her mouth. Francie remains staring at her curiously next to the duck outfit, waiting– Sydney realizes –for a response. "I… I'm sorry, Francie. I really want to get this done; I just can't stop reflecting."

Francie seems to understand immediately, and nods in recognition. "No one blames you for thinking about the past, especially at this point. I just worry about you sometimes."

She has been reflecting on the past a lot recently, probably more than she should. "I don't mean to worry you," she attempts to reassure her. She tries to continue, to back up her statement, but she is at a loss for words.

Her friend counters back. "It's okay to look back, it's always okay to look back, but you need to remember to think about the future once in awhile."

Sydney wants to tell her that she knows, but can only nod. With one final gnash of her teeth against the flattened end of the straw, she drops her arm to her side and lets the nearly empty cup dangle from her fingertips. Francie is absolutely right, she thinks. And if Vaughn was here right now he would agree with her. She knows she lets herself drift away into the memories, often drifting away from reality at the same time. Reminding herself that the future is more important, she obediently follows Francie around the store and they manage to find a few outfits.

Sydney glances over at Francie as she buckles herself into the car on the drive home. It feels so good to be in the company of her old friend that it is almost unreal. Sydney remembers during that first week in Switzerland when the realization truly struck her– that she may never see her friends again. She had tried to imagine their anguish of confusion over her sudden disappearance. She had broken down at the thought of no more girls' nights out in Francie's restaurant. She had curled up and cried in Vaughn's arms, thinking of lost Scrabble games with Will. Where would her friends be when the job got difficult? Where would they be when she needed advice? Where would they be to comfort her in case of a fight with Vaughn? Where would they be to share her joys of her newly allowed relationship with Vaughn? And their growing love for one another? And their pregnancy?

The simple reminiscence prompts Sydney to give Francie a tight squeeze before she drops her off, thanking her for everything. It is greatly to Sydney's relief that Francie has stuck by her, offered her more than ever at this time. Upon Sydney's return, Francie voluntarily took care of little things for Sydney: picking up a grocery here and there, occasionally preparing some meals, assuring Sydney that Aunt Francie would be there to babysit and help out with the baby whenever she would be needed. And particularly with Vaughn working so much, she became Sydney's saint. She feels almost as if she hadn't left for three years, and they picked up merely where they left off.

Sydney is delighted to see Vaughn's car pull into the driveway shortly after her arrival back home. She plans to show him the baby clothes, yet deviates madly from her grand scheme as she nestles into the couch and is joined by her husband. There he holds her, kisses her temple, and smiles while she tells him how utterly pleased she is to have her friends again.

_That next morning after a blissful awakening in each other's arms, Sydney sent Vaughn out for a bite to eat and painting supplies. During his brief absence, Sydney moved most of the boxes out of the living room and into their prospective places in the house, and decided that all random leftovers would rest in the guest bedroom, since they had no other use for it. She happily kissed Vaughn's cold, rosy cheeks as he stomped the snow off his boots at the door, exchanging a cup of coffee for a breakfast pastry. She devoured both her food and drink, demanding to paint._

_Vaughn smiled as she approved of the dark green color for the bedroom and the red for the living room. "Not bad, Mr. Avery, not bad," she told him._

_"Good. I got worried for awhile… You were really specific when describing them yesterday." They headed upstairs and covered the bed, floor, and makeshift table with a drop cloth before pouring the paint into trays and beginning to cover the walls. "And don't forget," Vaughn began as he applied tape over the molding and doorframes, "I'm expected at the bookshop tomorrow morning."_

_"Will you come home for lunch?" She caught his nod out of the corner of her eye. "Good."_

_They painted through most of the day and completed the room, but the fumes prevented them from sleeping in their bed. Sydney stiffly awoke on the couch in the living room, thankful to be surrounded with a blanket this time. Unfortunately, the space that Vaughn had occupied the night before was empty, and she knew he had already left for the city._

_Sydney transferred the drop cloths into the living room and was taping the molding when, as promised, Vaughn returned at lunch. He offered to take Sydney into Bern, explore a little, and meet his employees in the bookshop._

_As they trudged through the snowy walkway to the car, Sydney snuggled into her coat against the wind and became both nervous and excited about their use of aliases. This would be they're truly first experience as Scarlett and Michael Avery. Sydney stared down at her left hand and twisted the diamond ring around her finger, finally setting it straight as they passed soothing farmland and eased into the outskirts of the city. Soon they were driving amidst a bustling capital town, historic sights surrounding them as well as tourists, locals, shops, and cramped housing._

_Vaughn drove them deep into the eest, where he parked in an alley off Postgasse. Sydney's mind scrambled with German words and phrases as she prepared her mind for the scene to come. The wind had died down a bit, but Sydney rubbed her arms for warmth as Vaughn led her around front under the arcade and held a door open for her. The glass outside was nearly covered in posters advertising past and future events in the city. She barely noticed the multilingual "open" sign crammed into the corner._

_A bell jingled behind Sydney as the door shut and Vaughn helped her take her coat off. The shop was warm in both temperature and friendly feeling. She inhaled the familiar scent of old books and her eyes danced from shelf to shelf. Soon the rapid bickering of a woman and man came to her attention and she spied a blonde woman leaning behind the register, speaking harshly in hushed tones towards the back of the store. The man in the conversation quickly came into view and placed a pile of books down on the counter before rushing away to another table._

_The woman stopped mid-sentence as she spotted Vaughn and Sydney. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Klaus, come, Mr. Avery's returned."_

_"Please, call me Michael," Vaughn insisted as he stepped forward. "Ana, this is my wife, Scarlett. She starts work at Weiss Primary School on Monday." Sydney held back a snicker as the blonde greeted her with a hug and kiss on each cheek._

_Ana mentioned good things she had heard about the school as Sydney took in her appearance. She was shorter than Sydney by a good few inches, and her short blonde hair curled lightly below her earlobes. She used her thin arms animatedly as she spoke, luckily slowly enough at first for Sydney to understand, having not spoken German for a long time._

_She suddenly stopped once again in mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself! I am Analiese Schlosser, and my husband and I have worked here for– Klaus! Put down those books and come greet Mr. Avery's wife!"_

_The man who had earlier been arguing with Ana returned to the front of the store, a pile of books still held firmly in his grasp. "Ana, why didn't you tell me we had a guest?" he asked, setting the books down and greeting Sydney in the same fashion as Ana had. "You may call me Klaus, and I am Ana's house slave–"_

_"He means husband."_

_"–in case she hasn't already told you. You're Scarlett I presume?"_

_Sydney nodded with a chuckle. The four commenced into light chit-chat before Klaus had to return to work and his dark, curly hair and lanky body disappeared behind the shelves once again, and Ana momentarily stole Vaughn away to tend to some legal papers. Sydney wandered around the front of the store until Vaughn returned shortly, hollering a farewell to the couple in the back of the store before exiting with Sydney._

_She turned to smile at him as he wrapped his arm around her and walked down the arcade. "The school's called Weiss?"_

_He smirked. "The school's called Weiss."_

_She snuggled in closer to him. "I like them," she decided, referring to the Schlossers. "They're cute."_

_Vaughn brought her to the deli where he had bought sandwiches the other day and they enjoyed a quick lunch, followed by a quick tour of the area. Finally they were too cold to walk around much longer, and they hurried to the car to get warm at their house._

_Late in the afternoon, they began the painting job of the living room. They knew they would fail to finish tonight, since they started late and the room was larger than the bedroom. Still they persisted, finishing one and half walls before stopping for a bite to eat, and carrying on to finish the second. Sometime during the third wall, Sydney gingerly picked up the paint can to refill an emptying paint try, however, her fingers slipped off the handle and red paint splattered over the drop cloth, unpainted wall, and unfortunately, Vaughn._

_Sydney's mouth formed an O shape in shock and amusement while Vaughn paused to inspect the damage. Suddenly he shifted his arms, and his paint roller smeared a fresh coat over half of Sydney's face. Quickly she dug her hand into what remained in the can and tossed a handful in Vaughn's direction, launching an all out paint war. They threw paint at each other while dodging behind the covered couch and chased each other with messy brushes. _

_After minutes of what resembled bloody warfare, Vaughn tackled Sydney from behind and smudged handfuls of paint down the front of her shirt. Sydney attempted to turn and playfully throw him back against the wall, however, tripping in the process, came down hard onto the floor with Vaughn on top of her. Immediately laughter exuded from their bodies, which eased into giggles, which disappeared into smiles, which died away into deep staring. Their heads drifted closer and closer together until their mouths crashed._

_Her hands grabbed for his neck and head, desperately clutching him to her. Vaughn's arms moved to wrap around her body and he swooped her into the air in one rapid motion. Clumsily, they followed the wall up the stairs; Sydney's fingers dug at his collar, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it along the way, along with other articles of clothing. They stumbled into the bedroom, half-naked and hungry for each other. She nibbled at his neck and ear ravenously as they removed the rest of their clothes. He laid her down onto the bed with great care, pulling away for an instant to stare at her and awe in her beauty, but she drew him back on top of her quickly, where they buried themselves under the covers._

A/n: You know, when I wrote this chapter I didn't like it very much, but now, it's growing on me, I admit. Who can say they don't enjoy the Spy!Sex? Haha. Please review, give me some feedback!


	6. Chapter 6, Part I

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 6, Part I

A/n: By the way, this chapter is flangst to the max.

_Sydney lay in bed, sheets swirled around her in disarray. The comforter covered her body from waist to ankle, and her arms were tossed back behind her head as she stared in a daze at the ceiling. The hotel room slowly spun around her while her mind swam endlessly through the vacuum of space._

_Suddenly she inhaled deeply and recognized the scent distinctly belonging to Rome, causing her to long for another familiar smell. Reaching for the pillow beside her head, she breathed in Vaughn's fragrance. She hugged his pillow and recalled bitterly that he was away tending to business, leaving her alone in the late morning to do what she pleased with an empty afternoon._

_Two days ago, the bookshop received a shipment from Livres d'Eiffel , alerting Sydney and Vaughn to flee the country. Seeing Rome listed as a safe-haven, they jumped at the chance to return to the charming and ancient city. The couple was quite eager to visit, falling in love with the area having only been once before (apart from their break-in at the Vatican)._

_There was a homely tranquility about Rome– despite its major city status –that appealed to both of them, and reminded them of their precious Bern. They found its history intriguing and its romanticism enchanting, and they agreed it the perfect place to celebrate a much belated third anniversary in late October. Unfortunately, especially after last night's fabulous escapades, there were issues with a publisher based in Rome that Sydney's male counterpart had gone to deal with._

_Sydney painfully shifted her gaze to the far window, a stinging sensation burning her eyes in the striking sunlight. She squinted yet refused to blink, stubbornly fighting the pain. Once fully adjusted, she peeled her body from the sheets one muscle at a time and crept forward toward the calling window across the cold, tiled floor._

_Touching her fingertips to the sill she examined the morning: bright and cloudless; the piazza: full, bustling, yet soothing; the Spanish Steps: adorned with the trademark red azaleas (likely to disappear by the end of the month), clusters of seated tourists, admirers of the boat-like fountain; and the church: rising magnificently in all its glory, calmly overseeing its city's affairs._

_The Spanish Steps were Sydney's favorite site, though it was unclear to her why. Why a simple set of stairs with the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Sistine Chapel just blocks away? Perhaps it was related to her unusual attraction to all things normal; train stations, for instance._

_Subconsciously she slipped her hand under the hem of her green tank top and brushed the skin that encompassed her bellybutton. Suddenly the room was spinning again and she woozily stepped back from the window, as if afraid to tumble outside. She turned quickly and darted toward the bathroom, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the tile resounding in her head. She leaned over the toilet and vomited, dropping to her knees in a moment of weakness._

_Her eyes were closed, each breath a heavy pant, she mentally convinced herself of stability, and she opened her eyes. After wiping her mouth with a trembling hand she grabbed hold of the counter and plucked herself from the floor. She held herself there a moment, unsteady yet on her feet, and rubbed her stomach with a trace of a scowl on her face as she stared at her paled reflection in the mirror._

_She slithered back into bed and balled into the comforting fetal position, surrounding herself in the protection of the covers. She had previously toyed with the idea of aimlessly wandering the city that day, venturing down the Via del Corso stopping only for gelato or pizza, passing the abundant fountains and statues in each piazza, gaping at the monstrosity of the monument to Victor Emmanuel II, climbing the eroded steps in the Colosseum. She had previously considered turning in the opposite direction afterwards to bask in the remaining warmth of the October sun upon the large lion fountain in the Piazza del Popolo, her second favorite after the Piazza di Spagna of her beloved Spanish Steps. But the mere thought of dashing through the crowded streets, dodging Smart cars, and the slick feel of gelato on her tongue made her stomach churn once again. She grabbed for her husband's pillow, desperate for his loving consolation, and breathed deeply for his scent as she molded it against the crevices of her body in a tight hug._

_When Vaughn returned around dinnertime, he found his wife seated at the elegant sofa by the window, her legs curled under her. Her eyes were focused outside into the darkening night, a pink and orange haze still visible in their sight. Nothing in particular outside the window held Sydney's interest, but she was deeply entranced by her thoughts._

_Her concentration broke, however, upon feeling Vaughn's body sink into the cushion and ensconcing his head into her lap. She uncurled her legs to allow him a more comfortable position and her fingers entwined themselves in his hair._

_"Sorry I'm back so late," he apologized quietly. "I thought it would be over sooner. But I guess all that matters is we got everything straightened out." She nodded faintly in response, and he could tell she was quite obviously distracted. He tried another approach. "So what did you do all day?"_

_She blinked rapidly for a moment. "Not much. I was in bed all morning, but I went out this afternoon for a bit, for some fresh air."_

_"I thought you wanted to wander around today?"_

_"Yeah, I… I wasn't feeling well earlier."_

_"Oh." He paused, thinking as her fingers grazed through his hair. "But you're feeling better now, right?"_

_Her expression faltered abruptly. "That's the thing, I'm not sure…" Immediately Vaughn sat up, his brow deeply furrowed and his wrinkled forehead full of worry. Normally she would have smiled at his concern, but she currently teetered on the edge of an unknown world in a rather distraught state. "I think I'm pregnant, Michael."_

_Vaughn, too shocked to respond, remained silent. It did not startle Sydney or evoke any worry, nor did she expect him to say anything at first. She had been dwelling on it all day, ever since she had returned to bed and wondered, Could I be pregnant? Being extremely busy with the start of school, she had failed to notice the earliest of signs, but now they occurred to her: missed period, chronic fatigue, and most recently the nausea… All classic. _

_If she was really– her mind could hardly process the word –pregnant, then what would become of her child? There were too many dangerous people in the world, and more evil than a child, let alone any normal person, could possibly imagine or be exposed to. So Sydney decided the risks were just too great._

"_We can't do this," she whispered reluctantly, voicing her fears. "We can't bring a baby into this life. How could we let someone grow up like this? Under lies? Under… Under the way we live?" She hesitated, letting her thoughts sink in, then she whispered, "What if he finds us?"_

_Vaughn shot her a look, his first indication of consciousness. "We can't think about that, Scarlett. We can't let him scare us."_

_Tears brimmed at her eyes. "It's a little too late for that."_

_Vaughn finally met her gaze, and upon seeing his wife so afflicted he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you so much," he says as she nuzzles her chin into his shoulder; he stroked her hair in his fingertips. She felt him pull away only to bring his hands to her cheeks, forcing them to lock eyes. Sydney knew instantly that he understood and shared her fears._

"_I know," she replied, "I love you too. And I want to have a baby with you, I want to so badly, but right now… I don't know if it's safe."_

_He brushed across her eyelashes with his thumb while she studied him intently. She knew how much a child would mean to him, to her, to them, yet their were greater things at stake. Things that taunted their happiness, threatened their little family, plagued their future. Would it ever be safe? Sydney felt they would know; one day they would know._

"_Let's not make any final decisions until we know you're pregnant for sure." Sydney nodded, leaning back into the couch and tilting her head to rest on his shoulder._

Sydney bolts upright in bed, her neck twisting around the room as she squints into the darkness. Something does not feel right. Something unknown has awaken her and made her alert, but what? She lies back down momentarily, but no longer feels the strain of tiredness.

Pulling the covers off her body, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and sits with her feet settled on the carpet. She stretches her arms upward, hoping to relieve the pain in her back that has existed without ceasing for the past week. This fails to help, as she expected, and she suddenly feels a tightness in her abdomen. Shifting uncomfortably on her bed, her hand falls to her stomach. Did she just feel…? No, it is too early.

She takes a deep breath as the discomfort subsides, and reaches for the phone on the bedside table. Hesitating, her fingers brush over the numbers, then she quickly dials Vaughn's cell.

After several rings, there is no answer. She quietly curses. He must be working. She sets the phone back and slowly eases herself to lie down, her legs still hanging over the edge. How long has Vaughn been gone? Two, three days? No matter how it disappoints her, Vaughn works for the CIA, and if they need him on a mission that is his top priority. She can not even remember where he has gone, though it is not important. He is gone, she is alone.

Another tightening wracks her abdomen more intensely and she closes her eyes to work through the ache. As she opens her eyes she sees her hands clawing into the bed, her breath quickened. This is not right, she tells herself, it is too early.

She props herself up on her elbows before edging off the bed to her feet. Her back straightens and she cringes slightly, her hands instantly trying to massage her muscles. Soon her eyes settle out the window; the headlights of a passing car flash passed. She can hear the soft pitter-patter of rain outside, and she spies the falling drops in the light from the streetlamps.

Tearing her eyes away she lurks through the darkened hallways of her small home. She pauses briefly, the nursery to her left, and risks a glance. But only after a glance does she move forward again, and heads to the kitchen. There she fills herself a glass of water and leans against the counter. She presses the glass to her lips and cool water slips down her throat, but she suddenly jerks it away as the tightness pulls harder at her stomach, splattering water over the counter, on to the floor. This time the pain is so distinct; she elicits a small gasp as she struggles to stand. Her right hand is tightly gripped on the counter, her left holding her stomach.

It is too early, it is too early, she keeps telling herself. But she clearly knows, it's time. With the next surge of pain her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the floor with a cry. She scrambles to her knees and crawls across hard wood, destined to reach her cell phone before the next one hits. Her shaking fingers punch at the digits and she holds the phone to her ear, her eyes closed, her heart pounding.

"Hello?"

She strives to catch her breath. "Dad, it's me. I'm in labor." No answer. "Dad?"

"I'm on my way." He hands up, and she drops the phone to the floor, pressing her back into a cupboard door to suppress another onset of pain. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut until she hears her father entering through the front door. She grabs hold of his arm damp from the rain and he assists her to her feet.

They progress in this fashion through the kitchen, hallway, and out the door. Soon Sydney feels droplets tickling her face, though the rain is easing up. Jack splashes through a puddle along the curb as he settles his daughter in his car.

Sydney clutches the arms of the front seat; her mind is screaming is agony. It's too early, Vaughn's not here, it's too early, Vaughn's not here…

Aside from her rapid breathing pattern the car is silent. Sydney attempts to focus her anguish elsewhere and Jack intently probes ahead with his eyes as he speeds through the streets of Los Angeles.

After losing a staring contest with the volume dial Sydney cries out. "It's too early, I can't do it." Her voice sounds small, a mild whimper, as if she is too weak to speak strongly. "I need… I need… Vaughn."

Jack safely screeches into a parking space and unbuckles his and Sydney's seatbelts. "You can do it, Sydney." He rushes to help her out of the vehicle, and aids her slow and pained gait through the hospital doors.

He speaks to a nurse at the front desk while Sydney's hands clamor beside him at the countertop to hold herself upright. Before too long she is quickly ushered into a wheelchair and pushed into an elevator; Jack is behind her, and he holds her steady as she wriggles.

Sydney keeps her eyes shut tight as her father glides her down the hallways, though after a minute the gliding stops and Sydney no longer feels Jack's presence near her. A nurse helps her change into a gown and gets situated in the bed. As soon as her feet are set into the stirrups nurses seem to swarm around the room, tinkering with machines and hooking things up, stabbing Sydney's vein with an IV and checking how far she has dilated.

A low groan escapes her lips as a hand tightens around hers. "Vaughn?" she asks hopefully, opening her eyes.

"No, Sydney, you know he's not here." Her father's voice is gentle and soothing, his eyes warm and sympathetic. For an instant she wishes to be five years old again, sit on his lap and smother him in a hug, then another contraction rattles her body and she is shook completely from her train of thought.

"She's coming too early, she's too early!"

"She's only a week from being full term, I highly doubt there will be any complications."

Sydney ignored him. "Where's Vaughn? I need him, I can't do this without him."

"Yes you can," he assures her firmly, "yes you can."

_To be continued…_

A/n: The chapters six are my favorites, I think. I'm quite fond of them. I can't wait for your reviews! They'll make me so happy after the rough week I've had.


	7. Chapter 6, Part II

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 6, Part II

A/n: Thanks so much for the reviews! Sorry this is posted later than usual, I had a meet after school today and then we went out to dinner, and, yeah… But enough about me.

Flangst to the max… Part II.

_Vaughn held a firm grip on Sydney's hand as they waited in a cramped room of the doctor's office. She held her breath as she stared down at herself from an awkwardly angled chair, her feet held in stirrups. Very slowly she exhaled and drummed her fingers along the back of her husband's hand._

Sydney was never a nervous person, and upon taking the role of Scarlett Avery she quickly became one. She had never been so nervous in her entire life, never had she been so torn by a decision she would make in the coming future.

_After another dismal day in Rome, the couple had returned home and immediately called for an appointment. Both of them had been rather quiet over the past days, saying little and speaking mostly with their eyes. Sydney cast a glance at Vaughn to find him cautiously eyeing the door. Waiting, he was waiting, they were both waiting. Waiting for the door to open, waiting for the test results, waiting for tomorrow's fate._

_Two swift knocks tapped at he door, followed by the twisting of the doorknob. In stepped the doctor, a light smile stamped across his face. He carried a clipboard with several sheets of paper he flipped through. "Mr. And Mrs. Avery." It was a statement, not a question. Sydney gulped down her nerves and stared directly at the older, balding man with glasses. A fluttery feeling formed in the pit of her stomach, a torture she quickly grew irritated by. He skimmed the second sheet of paper. "Let's have a look, shall we?"_

_Sydney and Vaughn locked eyes as she pulled her sweater up, revealing her stomach for the doctor to apply a cold, clear jelly. The doctor prodded her with a plastic device, sliding it across the jelly in search of the perfect place. Vaughn was the first to tear his eyes away, and Sydney paused before following suit. Her eyes settled on the grainy screen before her, scanning back and forth to make sense of anything._

_"I'd guess you're eight weeks along. Right there." He pointed to a dark spot the shape and size of a bean, then froze the image on the screen and fiddledg with a few buttons on the machine it connected to. Suddenly the room filled with a lively beat, the sound of flowing blood prominent in its vigorous pumping._

_The sturdy heartbeat bellowed loudly throughout the room, and Sydney froze like the image on the screen. She stared at the picture in awe, her lips slightly parted, and her heart swelled at the sound filling her ears._

_The doctor's vision wavered between the couple. "I'll give you two a moment." He flipped another switch before exiting the room, cutting off the audio but leaving the visual intact. Even though the plastic device no longer touched her flesh, the cadenced pulsation was forever imprinted on Sydney's mind._

_As she turned to face her husband Vaughn noticed her bottom lip quivering. He looked at her face with concern, trying to meet her eyes, but she had yet to tear them away from the picture on the screen. "Our baby," she muttered, at last reuniting with her husband's gaze. She pursed her lips for a moment as the tears that had been dammed inside her for days spilled over and cascaded down her cheeks. "I can't kill our baby!"_

_Vaughn stood from his chair and wound his arm around her, cradling her head against his chest, and not once disengaging his grip on her hand. He rocked her delicately as she released her sobs into his shirt, all her doubts and fears forgotten in her emotions, her regretful guilt washing over her. How could she have possibly thought to terminate the pregnancy? How could she have denied herself and the love of her life from such happiness?_

_She lingered in Vaughn's embrace but shifted her head as her cries eased. Her tiny bean of a baby now appeared to emanate from the screen. "I want this baby more than anything," she whispered. "More than our freedom. I want to hold her in my arms and never let go… I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life. But I've never been so scared of something either."_

_"I'll always be here to protect you, to protect her."_

_"I know." She let out a shaky breath. "I wouldn't be able to do this without you." She pulled away slightly and wiped at her wet cheeks, a light giggle breaking free when Vaughn began to help her. Finally she smiled for the first time since their first night in Rome. "We're having a baby."_

_He smiled back and swiped his thumbs along her lower eyelids. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead, nose and lips. He rested her forehead against hers, the tips of their noses nudging each others, and whispered back, "We're having a baby."_

The sunlight streams in through the blinds, a beautiful May morning after an overcast, rainy night. The warm rays fall upon the bed like layers of a blanket, wrapping around each figure with ease and comfort; another blockade to the evils of the world that once waited outside the walls.

Sydney sits with a smile gracing her face as she holds her daughter in her arms for the first time. Her tiny frame molds fluently against Sydney's body, her miniscule hand barely large enough to enclose around Sydney's pinky.

Sydney stares in awe and wonder at the sleeping child in her grasp. She is perfect, and healthy. Late last night or quite early this morning, Sydney is not sure, the doctors had whisked her away from her mother only after she stroked her precious fleshy cheek with her forefinger. Being born before term, they were not certain her lungs functioned fully and she could sustain a normal body temperature. Though after several long awaited hours a nurse delivered the whimpering bundle into Sydney's arms, deeming her extremely capable of surviving on her own. Sydney knows they will still stay a few extra days, though, her daughter is more susceptible to sickness and infection than most babies. A longer stay does not bother her, as long as she can hold her in her arms.

She had sent her father home more than an hour ago for sleep, he had stayed awake with Sydney all through the night awaiting any news of his granddaughter's health. He stayed awhile longer after the baby had been returned to her mother. He had kissed the top of her tiny bald little head, as well as the cheek of her mother and said his good-byes. He will be back later.

Jack had politely taken the liberty of calling Will and Francie as well, and inform them of the big news. The two had come to visit just as Jack left, and apparently Marshall and Dixon planned to visit later on.

Sydney's smile grew as the baby's mouth opened in a yawn before nuzzling back against her mother's breast. Never has Sydney known such an instant love for someone, a bond so unbreakable, a branch from the love for her husband. It is the most picturesque moment Sydney has ever envisioned. There is only one thing missing, and that is Vaughn.

A knock at the door breaks Sydney from her thoughts, and Eric Weiss sticks his head through the door. "Eric, come in." She cannot contain her smile as he enters, carrying a light brown teddy bear in his hand.

He props the bear up against the guard rail on the bed and leans forward to touch the baby's soft skin. "She's beautiful, Syd," he smiles, "and so tiny."

"Five pounds, six ounces," Sydney recites from memory. "Do you want to hold her?"

"May I?" Sydney nods. He brings his arms forward and Sydney carefully transfers the meager weight of her child into trustworthy hands. A muffled whimper sounds in her throat at the movement, but Weiss calms her. "Yeah," he coos, standing up straight and swaying, "I got you, I got you. I'm your Uncle Eric, and see that teddy bear? That's for you." The baby's arm slips out of the blanket, reaching out toward nothing in particular. "Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool too. Do you have a name yet, little one?"

"Not yet," Sydney answers with a pang, watching as Weiss gently bounced the nameless baby around the room. For some reason she and Vaughn have not discussed names. They had expected a few more weeks, and with Vaughn's absence she may be nameless for an indefinite amount of days. Of course she has a few names in mind, and she believes her husband does as well.

Sydney feels an abundance of love swarming about her as Eric hands her child back. With her free hand she envelops one tiny fist with her palm and laces her fingers gingerly around her wrist. She cranes her neck down and lands her lips on the crown of her head, planting a number of soft kisses there.

"You know, if Vaughn were here, he'd be really proud."

Letting go of her grasp on her hand, Sydney moves to stroke her fingers across her head, then bring her hand back to help support her baby. She glances up at Weiss, a serious look in his eyes but a generous smile on his face. "I know," she whispers, wishing desperately that Vaughn could be there to share the moment. Her mind and heart are divided; she is angry, he has missed so much, he was not there to help her through the labor, the delivery, the anxiety over the baby's potential health problems, but she is at the same time hopelessly smitten, this little sleeping angel is the best gift Vaughn's love could ever give her, and she loves him more for her.

Weiss's hand rests on her shoulder as they study her slumbering form. Sydney spontaneously looks away, settling her gaze towards the door. There stands Michael Vaughn, his arms folded over his chest, watching his two girls with a smile deeply implanted in his face, his eyes, his forehead. Everywhere he is smiling.

Weiss recognizes the intensity of the moment. "I'll, uh, leave you two alone." He turns casually and exits, Vaughn nods his head at him on the way out.

Sydney's vision stays on Vaughn as he calmly steps forward, his eyes focused on his child. She has so much to say, yet nothing is verbalized. Vaughn steps up next to the bed, his eyes watery, reaching one hand out to cradle his daughter's head– his finger grazing over her ear –the other perching on Sydney's cheek. He chuckles slightly as a few tears slip down his face, and he brushes his shoulder against his face to wipe them away before bending down to passionately kiss his wife.

When they separate he closes his eyes and holds the bridge of his nose against his wife's cheek. "I love you," he tells her; she reaches up to touch his stubbly face. "I love her."

"Hold her," Sydney calmly commands.

He obeys without protest and sits on the edge of the bed, breathless as he holds his daughter in his arms for the very first time. A few more tears slip down but this time he does not hurriedly brush them away in embarrassment. In his fragmented breaths he leans over and whisks his lips over the tip of her nose, murmuring an I love you. Sydney repositions herself at a sluggish pace, her body both sore and tired, lowering herself to rest her head in his lap. One of Vaughn's hands drifts downward, his thumb tracing his wife's lips. "I'm so sorry," his crackling voice begins.

"Stop." She scoops up his hand, kissing his fingers before balling his hand into a fist and holding it in the crook of her neck. She cannot be mad over something beyond her control, especially in his line of work, and he does not need to apologize for the same reason. "Let's just cherish this moment."

Their daughter lets out a cry, louder than her whimpers, and Sydney instinctively sits back up and takes the crying infant into her arms. After a moment of soothing, she remembers the nurses instructions and settles her baby for her first feeding. Vaughn watched in amazement as the baby suckled at his wife's breast. After a minute or so, her eyelids lift, exposing a view of her parents' faces for the very first time. She blinks sleepily a few times but keeps them open, wanting to witness any events around her.

"Hey there," Vaughn greets her. She focuses on her father while happily feasting, her dark blue irises small and round in their sockets. "I wonder what color her eyes will change to." Sydney sounds her agreement. "God, Syd, she looks so much like you."

"No… Really?"

He nods at her. "She still needs a name."

"I know," she admits, biting her lip. "Mmm, well, I was kind of thinking about it…"

"Me too…"

Simultaneously they announce:

"Nicole."

"Leah."

They smirk at each other. "I like that," Vaughn decides.

"What, Nicole Leah?"

"No, Leah Nicole. You like that? Leah Nicole Vaughn?" Sydney nods, it's perfect. Vaughn strokes his daughter's exposed back. "What do you think?" he asks the baby. "Are you a Leah?"

Leah has focused her eyes up at her mother, who beams down at her child with love. Sydney glances back at Vaughn, and he proudly kisses her on the cheek. For once, Sydney finally feels truly safe from harm. With her daughter in her arms, her husband's lips caressing her cheek, she has not a worry or fear in the world, and at last, she no longer feels utterly alone.

A/n: Gawwwww. Spy!Fam is so cute. What did you think? Please keep the reviews coming!


	8. Chapter 7

**Phantasmagoria**

Chapter 7

A/n: For some reason, this was possibly the most difficult chapter I've ever written. It took me forever to get it started even though I knew exactly what I was going to write. But enough about that, I have to warn you.

This is the last chapter of this story, and then there will be an epilogue. You might not like me so much when you finish reading this. But the epilogue will explain everything, and I mean everything.

But for the next few minutes, just pretend like you didn't read that. …Enjoy!

Luckily Sydney and Leah are able to return home after a week in the hospital of observation. Little Leah has begun to grow and gain a healthy weight, and the doctors deem her physically fit to be left in the care of her mother. Sydney is extremely grateful to be out of bed and back into normal attire, though she feels a bit cautious as she gently lays her sleeping daughter into the car seat; she loathes not possessing her in her arms. Of course, it's fine when Vaughn is holding her, or a close friend, but then Sydney can keep her eyes focused straight on the baby and not have to worry. She dislikes having her daughter alone and behind her.

"Sydney, she'll be okay. It's only a fifteen minute drive." Francie stands with the car door open on the driver's side, staring at Sydney with a playful smile under a cocked eyebrow.

"I know, I know," Sydney admits reluctantly. "Can't I just hold her?"

"Oooh," she scoffs at her friend, "come on." With pursed lips, Sydney checks that Leah is secure, closes the door, and slides into the passenger front seat. After buckling her seatbelt, she turns to watch her little one, but is stopped as Francie revs the engine. "She's fine," she assures her, and Sydney begrudgingly slips her body back to face forwards.

Her fingers tug at the hem of the t-shirt she is wearing; she glances at Francie. She watches her eyes scan the road ahead of her, occasionally darting to a mirror, checking here, looking there. Sydney lets out a deep breath and tries to relax the tense muscles in her back, and her eyes slip shut. She does not think, but merely rests with her eyes closed.

In this state she thinks about many things, including sleep– or her recent lack of – as well as her husband, her new baby, and of course her best friend. While Vaughn was graciously allowed a few days vacation following the birth of his child, he did have to return to work. Sydney threatened to call Kendall himself and demand more time, but Vaughn told her it was no use. She is deeply disappointed he will not be at the house for his daughter's homecoming, but she smiles at the thought of him greeting him later.

His absence is the reason Francie drives them home now. She plans to help Sydney settle in this morning, staying for as long as Sydney needs her. While she is glad Francie will help, there is no one Sydney wants more than her husband.

Sydney reopens her eyes just as Francie turns onto their street. Her daughter had not made a sound throughout the trip, and Sydney knows she is still asleep, yet she twists to look anyway as the car comes to a stop in the driveway. Immediately Sydney unbuckles herself and hurries her feet onto the concrete, her hand flying to the back door and swinging it open. She finally slows herself to take Leah from her car seat, and Sydney coos softly as she nestles back in her mother's embrace, where she belongs.

Francie carries a few things behind her as Sydney makes her way to the front door, careful not to disturb the baby while pulling the key from her pocket. When she opens the door, she whispers, "Look, Leah, we're home." Stepping inside, Leah shifts herself slightly, and Sydney chuckles to herself as if she understood.

She hums over the bassinet set up in the living room and gingerly lays her daughter down. She stands for a moment, hovering over her sleeping form in awe. This is her daughter, this is what she created with Vaughn, who they created. It feels new and exciting, frightening at times, yet strangely natural. At last a warmth emanates from inside her, and she recognizes the feeling of relief. Sighing happily, she eases into the corner of the couch and gives Francie a true smile. "She's perfect," she tells her friend, as she has already told her several times.

"She is," Francie agrees, smiling in Leah's direction. Then, "You fed her an hour ago, right?"

Sydney nods. "She'll be all right for at least two hours." She notices the look of worry hidden in Francie's face, and biting her lip, says something. "Look, I know you want to stay and help, and I'm truly thankful for that, I am, but right now… I just want some time alone with her."

Slowly the worry transforms into a second of being heartbroken, followed by a solid look of understanding. "Okay," Francie says quietly. Sydney thinks that she has hurt her feelings, and begins to protest her prior comment, but Francie stops her. "Just call me tomorrow. Okay? I'll make you lunch or something."

Sydney agrees, and hugs her friend good-bye, and finally she is at home with her child. She has dreamed of this day for many months now, though wishes deeply that Vaughn was by her side. Knowing she would see him later, she decides it is better than nothing.

She spends the rest of the morning and afternoon lightly napping, feeding and changing Leah, watching her sleep, and holding her tenderly. Every so often she gently strokes her soft cheek and kisses her bald head, declaring her love with each action.

Sydney has just fed Leah on the living room couch when Vaughn returns home. Greeting each of his girls with a kiss, he gleefully takes his daughter into his arms and nuzzles his nose against her tiny one. "Hello, Leah Nicole," he says, "I love you." Sydney's hand barely touches his arm, beckoning him to sit next to her without words. He complies with ease, and Sydney kisses him again. "Daddy missed you today," he tells the baby, her small eyes opening to study her father's face, a look of loyal concentration.

"It's good to have her home," Sydney says, leaning her head upon her husband's shoulder. Her fingers lightly massage the top of their daughter's head.

"Yes, it is," he decides, once again nuzzling his nose against hers. "Can I quit my job and stay here with you?"

"I would love that, but we wouldn't eat."

They smile. "Good point."

Several weeks pass by faster than Sydney expected, yet slow enough for Sydney to enjoy her newborn daughter. People come to visit daily, Francie and Will, the Dixons, Weiss, Marshall, once or twice, and of course Jack. They squeal about Leah's beauty, gush about what a wonderful baby she is, bring her presents of stuffed animals and adorable baby clothes, Sydney can only thank them. Francie and Jack visit the most, more out of concern that Sydney is alone with a baby all day long and may need assistance then to visit the precious bundle of joy, yet they always do.

Each night Sydney revels in Vaughn's reappearance at the front door. Their evenings are delightfully easygoing and cheerful as they spend time learning about their daughter and taking care of her together. Sydney comes to find that Vaughn's observation was wrong, however, as time elapses: Leah looks nothing like her mother, but quite resembles her Grandfather Bristow. Her small, watchful eyes turn a dark shade of brown, her tiny button nose developing straighter, though still perfectly rounded at the top, tufts of hair emerging on her scalp a brownish black Sydney can remember only from pictures.

Now more alert, Leah will not sleep for her audience of viewers, but opts to play vigil until the unknown guests leave, and she is certain her mother is under no harm. Sydney finds it endearing yet tiresome as her daughter's genetic nature ruin her newly formed sleeping habits. Still she wakes several times a night, demanding a familiar presence by her side. Vaughn takes his share of night time awakenings, but Sydney feels more exhausted than ever.

One rare morning when Vaughn is home he urges his wife out the door after her shower. It takes all through their breakfast and Leah's to convince her. "You haven't left the house in a month. Go, do something for yourself, I'll take care of Leah." In a loving way he tickles the soles of her still tiny feet, and she coos softly from her swinging chair that rests on the table and bounces her legs up and down. He picks her up to blow raspberries into her stomach and she replies with a toothless grin, staring at her mother.

She takes hold of Leah's small fist and presses it to her lips. "All right," she consents. "But only for a little while. There's extra milk in the fridge, and–"

He stands and kisses her to prevent her from further stalling. "Syd, I know. We'll be fine, won't we, Leah Beah? Now go." As he spoke he nudged her forward, grabbing her keys and lightly shoving her towards the door.

Finally, she leaves, not entirely sure where she is driving but content to obtain a long awaited solitude. Still thinking on Mommy Mode she heads to the grocery store to pick up a few items they have run out of, namely diapers. Returning to her car, she decides she does not want to go anywhere, but drives aimlessly around Los Angeles to kill time and make her husband happy.

_Vaughn headed out to the bookshop one morning, leaving his wife asleep in bed. She deserved to sleep in, to enjoy her last days of summer holiday before school started. He found it amusing how she pretended to dread its coming, though secretly anticipated it. He couldn't keep her from those kids for too long._

_He returned home at lunch, surprised to discover Sydney still sleeping, then again it was not at all shocking after they stayed up rather late last night, and, er, well into the wee hours of the morning…_

_Sydney felt someone nudge at her arm, and she groaned, rolling over to ignore it. "Too early," she grunted._

"_Too early? It's 12:30!"_

_Reluctantly she turned over and opened her eyes, finding Vaughn kneeling on the floor, his arms curled under his chin and resting on the edge of the mattress. "Then it's too cold," Sydney decided._

"_It's twenty-five degrees out." She ignored the warm weather report and snuggled deeper into the blankets. "I come home to see if my lovely wife would join me for lunch, and here I find her still in bed."_

"_Well, you kept me up late again last night, Mr. Avery," she adds with a playful smile._

"_We could go to sleep at a decent hour if you prefer–"_

"_Fine, fine, I'm getting up. I'll shower while you make lunch?" He nodded, and she sat up in bed to stretch. Before he left the room she said, "And for the record, I wasn't complaining about you keeping me up too late!" She heard him laugh as he made his way downstairs, and she proceeded to the bathroom._

_When she later entered the kitchen feeling awake, clean, and fresh, she found that Vaughn was ready to go. "Our usual spot?" he asked, and she instantly agreed. They drove into the city and parked behind the bookshop, then walked hand in hand a few blocks over to the school yard along the river. They seated themselves at a wooden park bench deteriorating with age, overlooking a large field and beyond that, a wide section of the Aare, particularly calm on this hot, windless conclusion to July._

_Sydney smiled, nibbling on her chicken salad as she observed the scene before her. She and Vaughn had eaten lunch on that bench nearly every day since the weather permitted– she guessed mid-April after the freak snow showers ended and the grounded frost melted at last. Usually they would oversee groups of children running amok in the grassy terrain partaking in a football match or game of tag, begging the couple to join in the merriment._

_In truth, she was delighted for the commencement of a new year. She would miss the extra time spent with her husband in the bookshop, but she dearly missed her students. And while tutoring them was a time consuming commitment, she couldn't wait to hear young voices greet her in excitement, "Frau Avery, Frau Avery! Look what I made!" and to hang new works of art on the refrigerator. She couldn't wait to hear their struggle with simple words like "witch" or "awesome." She couldn't wait to see their triumphant faces when they finished reading their first English book all by themselves._

_She sighed contentedly today, enjoying the peace of the empty park and the idle chat with Vaughn. They finished eating quickly and meandered back to the bookshop bustling with tourists in the warm afternoon. But things calmed down later in the evening, and finally Sydney got a chance to talk with Ana._

"_If I had known things were so busy today I would have come sooner," she apologized._

"_Nonsense," she objected. "I insisted that Michael take his lunch break."_

_Vaughn approached, sneaking in beside his Sydney. "We'll be sure to come in early tomorrow. That is, if I can get Miss Sleepy-Head to wake up." For that, Sydney smacked his arm with a wry smile._

"_Tomorrow? You mean Saturday? We're closed tomorrow."_

_Sydney and Vaughn shared a bewildered glance while Ana assisted a customer at the counter. "Why would we be closed tomorrow?" They were only closed on Sunday mornings and afternoons._

"_Klaus didn't tell you?" They shook their heads. "Of course he didn't. Tomorrow's the first of August, Swiss National Day. The whole city shuts down and celebrates. I was sure I told Klaus to invite you over, but, well…" She roiled her eyes in the direction of the back room, Klaus's sanctuary. "You know him."_

_Since they weren't traveling to their house until four o'clock, they felt no guilt in sleeping in late the next morning after last night's pleasurable activities. Together they prepared a dish to bring and drove into the city. They quickly came to find driving more difficult than usual on the extremely crowded streets of Bern. Everywhere people waved flags, gathered in massive groups to hear someone speaking, and the national anthem could be heard playing around every corner. They eventually arrived at the Schlossers' home tucked away in the heart of the city. There they met their friends' relatives, celebrated, ate, and relaxed in the afternoon heat._

_Sydney sat upon Vaughn's lap in a lawn chair surrounded by a flower garden, enjoying the day with one another. They had just finished eating dinner, an extensive barbequed meal courtesy of Klaus Schlosser, and Vaughn took Sydney's now empty plate with his and set them on the ground at his feet; she snuggled into his shoulder._

_They sat quietly for awhile, though laughed together at Ana's young nieces and nephews growing restless as they anxiously awaited the night's fireworks and parade. "Happy August First," Vaughn grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "I love you."_

"_I love you, too," she replied. Closing her eyes and smiling into his neck, she suddenly remembered something. A date, August First, though it had other magnitude. "Do you remember what today is?" He didn't. "August First is our first anniversary…"_

"_Then happy anniversary, Miss Scarlett. Now we really have a reason to celebrate." She smiled, and they each silently reminisced their last five months together in Switzerland. Sydney watched as the sunlight reflected off her diamond ring, glinting brightly. Vaughn watched as well. "Scarlett," he began solemnly, catching her full attention. He continued slowly, his fingers nervously twisting Sydney's ring around her finger, "If we weren't already married… Would you marry me?"_

_Sydney sat up straight, somewhat agape but simultaneously overjoyed. Only she could understand the true significance of his query. Bringing her hands to his face she kissed him hard on the kips. "Yes, yes I would marry you."_

"_Then I think Scarlett and Michael should renew their wedding vows…"_

_Instantly, she agreed. At that very moment they left the bustle of the Schlosser's unnoticed and ventured into the rejoicing city. It did not take them long to find a church with a priest willing to perform the ceremony, and before they knew it they were exchanging vows with the Swiss national anthem ringing loudly in the streets._

_When they stepped out of the church, pronounced man and wife, an approving audience of the sky applauded them with booming fireworks, a scintillating array of red and white sparks showering them from above. Vaughn wrapped his arms around her as they gazed up into the darkness, the exploding lights overhead illuminating the tips of the mountains in the distance. Sydney could remember a time she sat with him in an office, reading the words:_

_**Scarlett and Michael Avery**_

_**Married: August 1, 2002**_

_Somehow, that memory had altered, for it now was distinctly written:_

_**Sydney and Michael Vaughn**_

_**Married: August 1, 2003**_

A bad feeling befalls upon Sydney, deep in the pit of her stomach. It grows rapidly, seeping into her bloodstream and spreading into her limbs. Her hands shake as she turns to head home. The trees outside the window pass too slowly; she speeds up. Her breathing increments increase, her heart rate soars. Something is not right.

The bad feeling has developed into fear and worry by the time she arrives home to an empty house. She calls for her husband's name though she is certain not a soul exists inside. Her trembling hands are filled with fret as they pull her hair behind her ears, indecisive on a plan of action. Finally she darts for the phone and dials Vaughn's cell number, but there is no answer.

She has no choice but to leave; she stares at the house with apprehension as she pulls away in her car. Where is Vaughn? Where is Leah? She can only focus on these two questions as she finds herself at her father's apartment complex. Her hands scramble to locate her key in her purse, and she finally bolts through the door. Quickly she scans the living room and kitchen, then races around the corner in the hallway, stopping abruptly in the door to her father's office.

There Jack stands behind his desk in the middle of the room, slowly rocking a sleeping Leah in her carrier. "Thank God," Sydney whispers with relief, panting as she catches her breath. Jack remains frozen in his spot, the only motion is his hand rocking up and down, up and down. His expression is grimly stoic. "Where's Vaughn?"

"He's not here."

Sydney steps forward into the room, approaches the desk, and briefly runs her fingers through Leah's thin tufts of dark hair. "Where is he?" she asks again.

"Sydney, you can't do this." She pulls her hand away from the carrier and brings it to her chest. What is he talking about? The tone in his voice frightens her, and she edges away. "After Leah was born, I was quite hesitant about you living with her, and after watching you over the past month, I've made a decision."

"Dad," her voice shakes, "you're scaring me."

He seems not to hear her. "And I am certain you are not a suitable caregiver."

"What? Dad, I–" She continues to edge backward.

"You cannot leave Leah home alone!"

"I left her with Vaughn, what are you talking about? Where is he?" Tears brim at her eyes.

"Sydney, you cannot leave your daughter with Michael Vaughn!"

"Why not?" Her steps backward increase their pace.

"Because Vaughn is dead!"

Fin

A/n: Please review! Trust me- the epilogue will explain everything!


	9. Epilogue

**Phantasmagoria**

Epilogue

A/n: You guys, I really have to thank you. You're all so awesome to stick with this story despite its confusion, bouts of fluff, and devastating angst. But mostly, I'm really proud of you. I wanted to write a story that made you think, go back and reread, to say, "Whoa." And you guys did that. You figured it out! Even though you were probably incredibly shocked after making the realization of Vaughn's death, I giggled with enjoyment at every comment about it in your reviews (not because I'm sadistic but because I was so proud of you. Also, you should be proud of me too, that I finally had the guts to write this. However, this is not a journal entry, and you're probably eager for that epilogue, so here it is.

Oh! By the way, there will be sequel(s)! I'm thinking a series, but we'll see how it goes. I've already got part of the first one written, and I think there will be two more, which will be Leah's story. I'll send PM's around when I post, so you can decide to read/not to read then.

Without further ado…

"No!" she screams, ripping her body the farthest she can carry herself within the limits of the room; her back slams against the cold steel of a filing cabinet, jarring several of its drawers open.

"Yes, Sydney," Jack pushes on. "And you've been afraid to admit it to yourself, nor will you discuss the events that occurred with anyone."

She cries as if being tortured as she stares in horror at her father, strong and omnipotent before her.

_Sydney set the hamper onto the mattress and proceeded to take clothing from it piece by piece, folding it neatly on the mattress. She heard the floor boards under the stairs creak behind her and soon she felt her husband's presence in the doorway._

_"I'm headed out to the store. You need anything besides peanut butter?"_

_She shook her head. "I don't think so." She turned slowly and leaned over her stomach to peck him on the cheek. "See you later." He patted her bulging middle gently before exiting the room; the sound of the front door opening and closing quickly followed._

"No, Dad," she beckons for him to stop.

Yet he proceeds. "Your hallucinations, or visions, whatever is going on, you need to stop. You have a child to take care of, who is your responsibility, who's precious life is held in your hands and your hands alone!"

Between her grandfather's loud tone and her mother's cries, Leah's light whimpering grows. Jack hand constantly rocks her carrier back and forth to no avail. Sydney sniffles in several short, hacking breaths and watches her daughter. Still so tiny, so innocent… And still so plagued by the life Sydney never wanted for her.

_Once finished with the monotonous yet calming folding, Sydney put the clothes away in their proper places and wandered into the hallway. She rested her hand on the banister to the stairs, yet something drew her into the nursery. Leaning against the doorway, she rested one hand on her stomach and used the other to tap the light switch. Suddenly the room before her illuminated and a smile curled at her lips._

_The room was small, yet large enough to hold the necessary furniture and baby items. She recalled the many hours she and Vaughn had spent working in that room over the past few months when she heard a noise from downstairs._

"You can't take her away from me, she's all I have left." She pleads, her knees shaking. "She's all I have to keep me sane."

"And you're all she has, as well." Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a shadow looming in the doorway. There stands Vaughn, tall and solemn. But silent. Jack's gaze does not waver. "This has to end."

_Sydney furrows her brow. "Michael?" At the lack of response, she turns off the light and stands warily at the top of the stairs. She hadn't heard him come back inside. Again, she tried, "Michael?" yet again there was no answer. In her confusion she slowly made her way down the rickety stairs, her hands on each side of the wall guiding her down steeply._

Again, she cries. "What has to end? There's nothing wrong; ev-everything is fine." Her eyes flutter back and forth from the looming figure to her father, waiting for the former to say something, to utter any sound implying his well-being.

"You think he's here, but he's not. You imagine yourself still wrapped in his arms, but you're not. You sit holding Leah in your arms and pretend that he's holding her, that he's talking to her, soothing her cries. But he's not, Sydney. He never has been, nor will he–"

"Stop!"

"Don't think that I don't see it. Your eyes haze over, your mind drifts off to another place. You fail to hear her crying, you don't eat for days at a time. You cannot do this to yourself, and I will not allow you to do this to her."

"I said stop, damn it!"

_She turned at the base of the stairs and glanced into the kitchen. Even with the dim lighting she could easily see no one was inside. With her still furrowed brow and her hand back in place, protective over her baby, she turned towards the living room._

_Immediately she stopped when she saw him. Her feet froze to the spot, her hand clutched her belly tighter, and all her greatest fears suddenly became true. He stood tranquil in the center of the room, his now scraggly beard patchy across his face and neck, his hair a light gray around his balding head. And he smiled, a most twisted and malicious formation of lips, hatred burning like fire in his eyes. "Your name shall haunt me nevermore, Sydney Bristow."_

Leah's cries erupt more intensely from her tiny lungs, and Sydney waits for the image that is Vaughn to speak; he does not. "I need her," she manages between sobs. "You can't take her from me!"

"I can, and until you can accept the present as reality you will not be the sole provider for your daughter."

"But Vaughn–"

"Can't help you. He's dead, Sydney."

_The lights in the room flashed on, forcing her to close her eyes yet again. She pried them open anyway, the stinging in her pupils causing tears to fall. When finally focused, she observed the unknown object in the room was indeed a chair. The guards shoved him into it, and he sank pitifully. She noticed cuts and bruises covering his face and she bit her tongue, wanting desperately to scream. She made herself look away, only to discover wires, cords, devices of torment along with the chair. She screamed anyway._

"No," escapes from her lips softly, her child's near screaming resounding in her ears.

_She heard the electricity building up; she stared directly into her husband's eyes, the only undamaged feature on his face. She watched as he stared hard at her stomach, his baby, before he met her gaze. He knew he would die._

Her eyes scan the room as memories flood back to her, a phantasmagoric scene playing before her eyes.

_Meanwhile Sloane's fingers gripped the rubber handle of a lever, his eyes twinkling with sadistic delight. He had waited three years for this, three long, tortuous years. In a swift movement she pulled down on the lever, and electricity seared through the man's body._

Finally she settles her view on Vaughn, gently crying, "No, no," as he stares back at her, eyes full of pity.

_She screamed as they delivered the final blow, writhing on the floor as he jolted in the chair. And suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over._

She closes her eyes, fighting the flash of images that pelt her mind. Screaming is heard, rivaling that of Leah's, yet she fails to realize they are her own.

"_No!" she screamed, fighting harder against the chains. "No!" She gaped through tears at his twitching foot. Twice… Three times… Once… No more._

She opens her eyes and screams again. Her eyes dance around the room, she cannot focus on Vaughn, her father, or Leah. Finally her eyes fall to the floor, and her knees crumble beneath her. She balls her fists and presses her face into the exposed palm and wrists.

"Just look at yourself," Jack urges, spitting at her. "Look at yourself!"

Sydney does so, pulling her hands away slowly, gasping for air. Through the strands of hair that dangle in front of her eyes she finds thick white streaks of flesh over her wrists; the scars she has ignored for the past months, the scars she has refused to take in.

Throwing her damaged wrists to her sides she tears her eyes away, and they fall upon an opened drawer in the file cabinet. She elicits another sob as her fingers reach inside and caress the cold steel, slowly wrapping them around the handle, stroking the trigger.

She closes her eyes, tears still streaming down her face. Jack is no longer watching her, attempting to calm the baby; Vaughn's looming form stands indifferent to the situation. If she is going to carry on, continue her life the only way she knows how, then she has to do things her way.

Opening her eyes, she looks directly at the silent image, wanting to touch him, wanting him to comfort her, but now her yearning desire is not enough. Barely audible, she whispers, "Good-bye," and focuses her gaze on her father.

Her cries ease; Leah's quiet. Jack's hand returns to rocking the carrier to remain soothing the baby's whimpers. When his eyes lift meet his daughter's he finds the black barrel of a gun staring back at him. Sydney pulls the trigger, blood spattering, the icy pistol dropping to the floor.

Jack's eyes remain wide with shock as his knees buckle. He slumps on his side onto the carpet, a crimson stain growing around him. And while Jack's body falls to his death, Vaughn's image disappears forever from Sydney's sight. Deep down, she has always known it one day would.

With short, erratic breaths she stands, shaking. She moves forward and carefully spins the carrier to face her. Grabbing hold of Leah's hand, Sydney calmly consoles her from the noise of the gunshot. And after wiping a speck of Jack's blood of her daughter's pudgy cheek, she lifts the carrier and walks away; away from away from the memories, away from the pain, away from home...

Rome is always nice this time of year.


End file.
